Fire And Blood
by IonosTargaryen
Summary: Set shortly after the conquest of King's Landing by Daenerys Targaryen and the fall of the north to the White Walkers. Basically an account of the direction I would like the series to eventually take. It also plays on two popular fan theories: Three-Headed dragon and R L J. A 13-part series and my first actual fan fiction! All feedback is greatly appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

In her youth, Daenarys Targaryen had pondered visions of what she dreamed Kings Landing to look like. It was her natural birth right as blood of the dragon and heir to the Targaryen dynasty of course. However, it was her brother Viserys, in his few kinder moments of adolescence, who first perked her interest, telling her tales of what he could remember from the corridors of the palace he once called home. He would speak aloft and proud of the throne their empire had set its foundations upon in Westeros and the views that would stretch for miles at its peak, overlooking the aura of beauty that was their pinnacle of their world. To the north lay an open expanse of rolling, fertile fields known as the 'river lands', ever blooming with wildflowers and delivering colourful characters along the Kingsroad every day. The shimmering beauty of the narrow sea glistened in the east, where traders from strange and distant lands brought the finest goods and revealed in the wealth and hospitality of the city.

He spoke of the majesty of the Red Keep and the gleaming corridors of the palace, a bustle of noise and activity, even as the war against the usurper came toward its conclusion. What he described sounded almost as close to perfect as perfect could get. Such was the scene through such youthful eyes, particularly those of a juvenile prince. He spoke of a time when Targaryen rule of those lands was as standard and well thought of as the common tongue. Now she had stepped foot onto those lands however, she felt like the one out of place.

There had been many various tales from those they came across in their early days in Essos. The accounts varied of course, their being in exile to places like Pentos in the first place due to their abandon of the Westerosi lands and culture. Still, it was her brother's stories she kept closest, even as his ambitions got the better of him. It seemed like the only truth he ever spoke in the end as his mind slowly descended into the fabled family madness. Plus it was the only truly Targaryen account of the story she'd ever get. Of course, Pentos and indeed Viserys seemed like a distant memory to her now. They may have started out their journey together, though his false confidence in his just right to rule (and indeed how he set out to accomplish it) drove them further apart than even enemies would drift, not least siblings cut from the same cloth. Inevitably, it led to his ironic demise at the hands of her former husband, Khal Drogo of the Dothraki.

As cruel as it seemed to admit, it was a long time coming. Threatening the Khal's family and their wellbeing had been the final straw. His madness had been his downfall, smudging the family name even further and leaving her as the last surviving Targaryen. Or at least, so she thought. She would never hold it against Drogo of course. No matter how much time rolled on, she would always hold him close to her heart. The man she at one point feared to love; her sun and stars. She had been the 'moon of his life' as he had so poetically put it. For her, she doubted there would ever be another quite like him. She thought of him every time she looked to the heavens, whether it had been in the barren lands of the red waste to the frozen north of Westeros.

That seemed like another lifetime all together. She had once been content to give up her dream of Westeros and settle for being by Drogo's side as Khaleesi of the great grass sea. They could have raised their son together, proud and true as the 'stallion who would mount the world' and live a life away from the turmoils of the Seven Kingdoms. Fate, as it would decree however, had different plans. In one, cruel swoop, both her husband and her child were taken from her by dark magic. She had been abandoned by all but a fraction of her original Khalesar in the blink of an eye.

She remembered how numb she felt as the fires had licked their way across Drogo's pyre. She would have almost felt content to hear the witches screams as she burned that night were it not for the overwhelming grief she had felt in her heart. Of course, what happened next would completely change the course of her destiny. When she emerged from the pyre the next morning, her dragons clinging to their mother as they sought their first breath of life, she remembered the faces of those closest to her as they looked on in disbelief. She had come out reborn. Gone was the timid girl under the rule of mortal men. It was that action that made her truly realize her place in the world; the Queen who would rebuild the Targaryen dynasty.

From there, her company had followed her across Essos, across barren red wasteland, trans versing the cities that lay ahead, from Qarth (the self-proclaimed greatest city that ever was or will be) to the heart of Slavers Bay and the throne room of Meereen itself. She gained and lost allies along the way. Some had perished. Others betrayed her. Yet she held on to her closest for as long as she could. She would never forget those who made that ultimate sacrifice in her name. It didn't quell the fire in her soul but ultimately made her ambitions burn hotter. She wasn't only growing for herself but also in their memory.

Though her compassion meant that the faces of those gone would forever linger in her mind as she closed her eyes. Brave heroes like Ser Barristan Selmy, captain of her Queen's guard. Pioneers in her conquest like Johan Forrester, who had rallied the forces of the north to her cause when she first arrived in their lands. There were even those who loved her. Jorah's demise had been one of the most heart wrenching. He deserved a death honourable as the bravest heroes of old. Instead, all he got was the ravage of greyscale, twisting and contorting the man he was into a savage beast as it took hold. Greyscale he had contracted whilst trying to win back her favour. His legacy would never die, both in her mind and in her heart. She would make sure the people of Bear Island and indeed all of Westeros knew the story of Ser Jorah Mormont.

There were of course, those who had survived to see this day as she did. Close friends like Misandei, her trusted advisor. Brave warriors like Greyworm, leader of her unsullied. And of course, Tyrion Lannister. How by the intentions of the Seven she had ever came to ally with a Lannister she would never know. She was cautious to trust such a man at first, particularly one with a reputation as sullied as his. Ironically, it had only been buffered in the Targaryens absence. Though he had, as it turned out, been one of her most valuable allies in the trying times to follow their encounter. He managed to govern the city she couldn't and had even taught her a few tricks in how to rule in that respect. The man who saved her dragons from the clutches of this 'Lord of Light'. This coming from a Lannister, not at least the fabled 'imp', would have been unheard of in the old Targaryen courts.

Of course, she had learned the value of such actions were not of coincidence. If there was one valuable lesson to take away from everything she had learnt, it was that nothing would be the same again. Tyrion was indeed not what he seemed. In the burning halls of Dragonstone, she discovered the truth. They were not only bound by fate but indeed blood. Tyrion was her half-brother and one of her closest living relatives. It was something he had come to suspect though had never fully grasped. His life had already been spent carving a legacy as a Lannister however. That would never change. Though he was only one of the three heads of the dragon prophesied. There was another.

Daenerys remained lost in her thoughts as she floated through the seemingly endless corridors of the Red Keep, taking little time to admire what she once dreamt of. It seemed insignificant in comparison to what had transpired over the past few months and indeed, what was transpiring now. Little beauty remained around her in any sense. The once beautiful jewel of the city by the sea had been ravaged by the effects of war. This may have been her Kingdom now but it was nothing like she had expected. In fact, it was in a sorry state.

The dead had ravaged the north, the White Walkers of the old Northern folklore decimating the populous and were moving further south. The Seven Kingdoms were more divided than ever, the great families of old either collapsing under the weight of war or barricading their gates to protect from the impending ravages of winter. Wildlings, bandits and opportunists roamed the lands, scavenging off what they could find and decimating anyone or anything that dared denied them it. Holy war now threatened to boil over an already wounded land as those faithful to this supposed 'Lord of Light' sought to overturn the traditional teachings of the Seven and crush the last of the Targaryens. With food and supplies running scarce and nowhere to run, the situation was grim. Indeed, this was as far from the Westeros her brother had told her tales of as could ever be.

Eventually, she backed out of her deep trail of thought. Her pacing had led her to the room Jon Snow was currently recovering in. The door loomed ominously before her, bleak and dark in the low light. Turning her head to face the window, she hoped in one respect that it would be able to cast a shine upon the shadows that now consumed the silent hallways of the palace. All she found of course was another bleak and grey winter's skyline reigning snow down upon the city. Not a very fitting picture to match the one that Viserys had given her. The golden skyline she envisioned had been consumed by a barren winter. Then again, so had most of Westeros. The whispers were that this was the furthest south the snow had ever come. Of course, all of Westeros had borne the brunt of this winter in one way or another. Smoke and steam rose from the city's lower levels in great plumes. She wondered if that was the forgeries at full strength or just simply those confined to the streets trying to keep warm.

Coming to the handle of the door, she swallowed a gulp of fear preparing for the sight before her. She had seen plenty of horrors on her journeys, though seeing Jon in this state was one of the worst. She had checked in on him several times over the past few days yet he had not awoken. Maester Tarly had kept trying to convince both her and young Arya Stark that he would recover, though neither of them could believe it until he awoke. She had felt his presence from miles away when she first landed in Kings Landing and could feel it even more now. Her Dragons had felt it too. Jon wasn't dead yet. He was the one prophesied in the scriptures she had read at Dragonstone. 'Azor Ahai'. The prince who would come. The blood of old Valaryia flowed through his veins like it did hers. The man raised as a Northerner and reborn again Targaryen. Her only living relative left in the world and now he sat in the shadow of the stranger. She did not want to lose him already. There had already been more than enough death recently. Turning the cold handle, she began to set the door ajar.

The room was dimly lit by flickering candles on the bedside table. Maester Tarly was reading over yet another book, seeking guidance in knowledge as he always did. Arya Stark was here again. She had barely left Jon's side since the day she had been reunited with him on the pillars of Harrenhal. Such was her love and dedication for the man she had always considered her brother. In truth, he was now more closely related to Daenerys than he was her. The other remaining Starks had come to visit over the past few days, hoping for good news upon arrival and leaving just as numb as the winter had left their fingers of late. Rickon and Sansa had been of great aid upon their re-emergence in the capital. Though their dedication almost seemed feeble in part to Arya's.

Sam was the first to notice the Silver Queen casting the door open. "Your Grace" he greeted her with respect and authority. Arya cast her gaze upon Daenerys too as she walked into the room. She was devoid of words however. Though this Mother of Dragons had rescued them from certain death, she could still not help but be wary around her. Most of the city felt this way, even the highborns she had spared upon her arrival. She might have broken the wheel of dissent and torment the citizens of Westeros had been enduring lately but it didn't quell the reputation that proceeded her. She was a Targaryen. The last of that line to sit on the throne had burnt his enemies to ash with no just reason in blind madness, including her grandfather and uncle. Though this was far from Daenerys, she knew her father's reputation would always cast a shadow over her.

"Maester Tarly" she answered upon his greeting. "Please, your Grace, call me Sam. Everyone else does. Plus, I've never really been one for formalities" Sam intervened, nervous but certain of his intention upon such a request. Daenerys showed a small smile of appreciation at his words. He had been one of the few people truly accepting of her. That was probably in no small part to her saving his best friend. "Has there been any development in his health?"

"Well he seems to be in less pain than he was. Milk of the poppy has helped that" Sam began. "He hasn't woken up yet though. That I'm afraid I can't give you an answer on". Though he had tried encouraging her, he could only be truthful. It did little to comfort the Queen's concern. She slowly approached Jon's bedside. Part of her pace reflected her nervousness at approaching the wounded dragon. What if he was close to death? The other part was cautious of offending Arya somehow. She could see how she cared for Jon and did not want to seem a threat. Arya inevitably didn't even meet her gaze. She just kept focused on the man she considered her brother as the Dragon Queen pulled up a seat next to her.

Sam went about frittering with his books again, rambling about what he had researched and what he would do to try and help Jon. Daenerys acknowledged him but only fleetingly. Her sight was fixed keenly on what she saw before her. Eventually, Sam realised this hint and left briefly to retrieve another book from the library. A still silence hung in the air after his departure, only the howl of the cold winter winds outside breaking through. It was Daenerys who first spoke. "Your brother has fought valiantly for us all" she began, sifting through words of comfort in her mind before finally arriving at that sentence. Arya didn't acknowledge her for a moment before changing the subject.

"I know he isn't my brother. Not really. He might have always been considered the bastard of Winterfell but I always knew he was something more". Daenerys felt a lump in her throat, chaos theorizing over whether or not Arya knew. "He was raised as a Stark of Winterfell and a protector of the realm. Your father raised him as such and he has always defended the North. That much will never change" Daenerys replied, trying to turn the situation in favour of comfort for the young wolf. Arya tried to force through a smile, though her conflicted thoughts kept it very minimal. She held back her words briefly before turning to face Daenerys as she spoke. She gazed straight into the Targaryens vibrant purple eyes, almost staring straight into her soul.

"Your eyes, what are they? What do they mean?" Arya asked. Daenerys stifled an answer for a second. Her heart skipped a beat as she knew Arya was seeking a certain answer, one she wasn't so willing to digress. The look in the young wolfs eyes pleaded mercy however. Ignorance was killing her more than the truth. "They are a sign of Targaryen heritage, I think. They seem to come to be when a bond is formed with the Dragon. I must admit, I'm not too familiar with them yet myself. They are almost intimidating when I see them in the reflection". Arya held back on her next question briefly. Daenerys had seemed like a higher being when she first gazed upon her, one not of mortal descent. The Targaryens had always been spoken of in a tone of myth or legend whenever she was told of them in her youth. Now a real one sat beside her. Highborn as she was, she seemed just as human as the rest of King's Landing.

Arya looked down at Jon, her grip on his open hand cementing as she herself came to grips with what she was about to say. "When I saw Jon, at Harrenhal, his eyes were glowing the same colour" She began, confirming the Queen's suspicions. She tried to intervene with whatever sentence forced its way forward first. She felt her heart begin to sink into a pool deeper than that of the narrow sea. "Jon was always raised as your brother. That much will never change, I promise" Daenerys spoke. Arya's reaction was mixed. She wasn't sure what the Queen meant with those words. At this point, she only assumed the worst. "Are you going to take him away with you?" Arya asked, dread filling her words. "What makes you think that?" Daenerys replied, confused by her words.

"Well why would you want to stay here? You've gotten your revenge against the houses of Westeros. Aside from that, I see little else to keep you here anymore. You already have a Kingdom across the sea" Arya replied in an almost cynical manner. Daenerys almost wanted to feel offended by such an assumption. She kept her emotions in check though. Arya was young and full of fire. She had seen more than a girl of her age should have ever seen. Though the world was cold and unforgiving of late, it had been particularly harsh on the young Stark. Daenerys exercised caution in her words. "Arya, I have been seeking a way back to King's Landing my whole life. I never wanted to leave and I don't intend on leaving". "I thought you were born on Dragonstone? Daenerys Stormborn they call you?" Arya replied, holding her ground in the battle of wits with the Queen. "That may be true, but this is where my father sat on the throne carved by my ancestors" Daenerys replied, battling with logic.

"Aerys. The mad king" Arya noted bluntly. Daenerys had no answer for this. She could sense the young warriors mistrust for her. She bowed her head towards the floor, pondering whether or not this would be how everyone received her in the capital. 'The spawn of the mad king'. In Essos, the people held the legends of old Valaryia in high stead. Seeing a Dragon to them was almost like seeing the Gods themselves. Westeros was different though. The Dragons still inspired fear amongst the seven kingdoms. The Targaryen name inspired it too. The Northerners in particular would have a hard time trusting her should they ever regain their homeland. The North always remembered.

Arya broke the Queen from her sorrowful thoughts. "Forgive me your grace. That was uncalled for" she apologized. She could see the effect her words had made. She would feel far worse if anyone talked ill of her father. For a time, they did under Lannister deceit. Daenerys looked back at her once more. "I swear to you that I am not and will never be my father" she replied sternly, defending her cause. Arya sought a way to change the topic. "I heard stories of how you liberated slaves". Daenerys calmed slightly at this remark. She could see the girl was trying. "That's true yes. I saw slavery first hand and the terror it would install in men. I did not want to be that kind of leader". "I've never heard of a leader quite like you your grace" Arya replied. "Everyone who has ruled the Seven Kingdoms in my lifetime has been cold and calculating".

"That's another reason I'm here Arya. To break that cycle" Daenerys informed her. She could almost sense a slight sense of admiration building in the girl. She decided to take it further. "Did Jon give you your sword?"

Arya looked down to her hilt. She would always carry needle now wherever she was. She had vowed never to let it go again after almost abandoning it in Bravos. It felt only right now to defend Jon with it. "He did. He taught me to stick people with the pointy end". Daenerys giggled at this revelation. "A wise trick. It will come in handy" she said, approving of her method. "You'll need it in the wars to come". Arya's mood sullied somewhat as she thought of the great peril still looming ominously outside the city walls. "I fear we won't survive this" she spoke, sounding more timid than she had ever done. Daenerys sensed her fear. She felt it too. Their situation was perilous. Still, she sought words to comfort the girl. "When we stand together, anything is possible. This is no longer about the right to rule. It's about the right to survive. Right now, we're winning that war just breathing". Arya smiled at her bravery as Daenerys placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She wasn't willing to give up her Kingdom without a fight.

"There was a saying...in old Valaryia; _Kes vys issalīje zobrie, Ñuhor va moriot kēlo onos"._ Arya was confused at such foreign words, even though she had flirted with the languages of Essos briefly in Bravos. Daenerys smiled as she recalled the words again. "In the darkest night, I will always find light". The young Stark had no words. She just embraced what the Queen told her with a smile. For the first time in what seemed like forever, it seemed like someone was actually making sense. Daenerys felt pride in helping the young girl. Their moment was interrupted by a murmur from Jon however. It was nothing more than a simple grunt, though any sign of life was of high regard to the pair at the minute. Their hopes faded as his face calmed once more back into its state of sleep.

Daenerys looked at the sky outside as she turned her gaze elsewhere. The sky was beginning to darken as it heralded night. She knew she could not stay here forever. If her talk with the young Stark girl had come to any fruitful conclusion, it was that she had much to do. She got up from her chair and prepared to depart. "You have family and friends here Arya. Don't forget about them" she advised Arya. "I won't your grace. Thank you. Valar Morghulis" Arya replied, beaming a smile back as she returned to her lonely vigil. "Valar Dohearis" Daenerys replied. Sam returned as Daenerys stepped through the door. He tried muttering out something to his Queen but decided against it, getting back to tending to Jon and looking after Arya.

Daenerys floated through the corridors of the Red Keep once more. She may as well have been ethereal as barely a sound could be heard but her footsteps. The once bustling and thriving corridors had fallen silent when the snows rolled in. Many sensed the end was near and that not even a trio of fire-breathing dragons would be enough to save them from the impending horrors that this winter held. They preferred to spend their last days with their families, wherever they may have been. She did not blame them. It would be impossible to deny her being frightened at the situation. The stranger had played his trump card and now his armies moved south. More, if not all, would perish before this was over.

Few highborns remained in the keep, aside from those advocates closest to Daenerys. She had allowed Jamie Lannister and his children a safe passage out of the city to their traditional home of Casterly Rock after a hefty amount of convincing from Tyrion. The Kingslayer, as he was known, may have still lived but it came at the cost of submitting the Kingdom he had held with his sister since the usurper took over. That had dented his pride more than any sword could ever dent his armour. Other Lannister and Baratheon conspirators were not so fortunate. They had received trial for their part in their crimes but the majority sentenced them guilty, leading to either exile or death. Many had burned for their part in the uprising that had drove out the Targaryens. It was swift justice, answered in full by the protector of the realm. Some had glanced favourably upon it whilst others had not.

As she began winding through the lower levels of the palace, she began to see scattered faces roaming the hallways along with the occasional Queens-guard. Their reaction to her was mixed. Some would acknowledge her with a passing curtsy or salute. Others would ignore her all together, some even going as far as delivering whispers to their compatriots as she passed. It left Daenerys feeling increasingly uneasy. Even surrounded by her finest and most loyal, this Kingdom would be a harder task to tame than Slavers Bay. Her mind began jumping to conclusions again, her emotions toying with her even if her exterior remained relatively calm. Perhaps Arya was right. What was really here for the Targaryens but a generation's old throne that had been kept warm by traitors in the past few years?

Eventually, she reached the exterior of the throne room. It seemed relatively deserted in comparison to what she expected. She took a moment to glance around and take in the sights she had been given very little time to previously observe. The room, despite its obvious lack of life, still stood as a proud monument to what the crown represented. It's spiralling pillars and elegant tapestry made it a symbol recognised throughout the realm. Then of course was the centre of its power. The fabled Iron Throne, constructed from the fire of Aegon's dragons after he claimed a new home for the Targaryen bloodline over three centuries ago. It remained a staple of elegance and intimidation all at once, its spiky exterior a testament to her family strength and conquest in Westeros. It was hers now, by right. Yet she didn't feel worthy to sit upon it.

After glancing around the room, she found one solitary figure. He could well have been missed had she been of taller stature. Tyrion sat alone on the steps of the throne, lost in deep thought as she had been. It took a moment for him to notice her too. "Your Grace" he greeted her as he raised a mocked glass of wine in her honour. She decided to take a seat next to him. She knew what he would tell her. Yet she didn't consider the Lannister any different to herself at this stage.

"You should be sitting over there" he told her, waving his imaginary goblet in the direction of the Iron Throne. Daenerys took another fleeting glance at it before answering. "I don't feel like I'm worthy to sit on it yet" she replied, a hint of self-loathing in her voice at the predicament. Tyrion took a moment to set aside his apparition before bringing his hands to set in his lap. "You've talked the talk and rode this far. Your enemies have either been cast out or cast to the wind. You have the largest army in the Seven Kingdoms at your back. Some would question that you require little more" he told her, prodding for a response even if he didn't quite word it that way. "What would you have me do? Sit upon the throne with a troubled conscience whilst those who doubt me whisper of my demise?" She replied, stating her feelings to Tyrion.

As much as he wasn't going to directly offend the woman who had spared him from death long ago in Meereen, he couldn't help his wit from coming out. "If only we had enough people with such a mentality. We'd have an ever revolving council that would last for centuries". His words left mixed feelings in the Queen's head. She wanted to laugh and almost agree with him. She knew however what he was hinting at though. She had the determination remaining to prove him wrong. "There won't be a throne room of jesters disguised as highborns whilst I am around" she declared, stating her case.

Tyrion could only slightly nod his head in agreement. "Well there is much to do before you make that a reality. Small matters of course, like an army of the dead savaging the North. Or the religious madmen burning Dorne in the South. And don't even get me started on finding you a husband" he joked in a sarcastic tone. The Queen didn't seem to take it so mild manneredly though. "That is the last thing I'm thinking of" Daenerys replied in disgust. "If I even think about it at all". "We've been through this your Grace" Tyrion begun, for what felt like the fiftieth time. "Taking a husband will help cement your place among those who still hold the old traditions _oh so dear_ ". His last words showed he didn't take the matter too seriously but could only council her on what he knew. Daenerys stared away from him, not even acknowledging the thought.

He sighed, knowing he could continue his political banter as much as he felt like, though it would do little to help thaw the mood they both shared. He allowed her to take the lead on the next topic. "What brings you here?" Daenerys asked him. "I was speaking with Varys about certain subjects. He said his birds would keep an eye out for any wine stores before he disappeared into the shadows again" Tyrion replied, tilting his head down to where he had placed the imaginary cup. "You still trust him?" Daenerys asked. Though she could not question Varys' intentions in bringing the Lannister to him after he seemed certain for the cleaver, there was a certain aura about him that should could just not bring herself to trust.

"Trust is a very strong word your Grace" Tyrion began. "He did help to rescue me however when I seemed to be staring at my end. Whether it was for his own satisfaction or that of the realm, I can't take that away from him". Daenerys nodded in agreement before silence crept in once more. "You've been to see Jon again haven't you?" Tyrion asked, assuming this much had led to her drop in mood. He got a simple "Yes" in reply. "And?" He continued. "Still nothing. I was told he is improving but...". Daenerys trailed off into thought, allowing Tyrion to complete her sentence. "But until he is awake and healthy you will question it all" he rounded off. She just timidly nodded.

"I remember when I first met him" Tyrion began, entering a state of recollection. "The outcast bastard of Ned Stark. Another young man brought into the frame of our realm with only a name and stonework life to carve out. I remember telling him to wear his reputation like armour so nobody could hurt him. He seemed to take my advice well. It's just unfortunate it led him to where he ended up". "He was a man of the Night's Watch" Daenerys inputted, filling in the blanks. "Correct. I warrant he was one of the few highborns to ever volunteer. He was raised as a Stark and performed his duty as such" Tyrion continued. "Except for the fact that he isn't fully a Stark" Daenerys answered, raising her concern from behind her exterior facade.

Tyrion intervened at this statement. "He would have either been a Stark or dead I'm afraid. I think I would have picked the former of the two given the choice. Jon didn't even have that choice". Daenerys knew he spoke the truth but the warning in her heart kept prodding and poking away. "He was raised that way yes. He saw Ned Stark as a father and not Rhaegar Targaryen". Her words were tainted with a hint of jealousy and contempt for the man who had taken her brothers child. She knew it was all in the name of good but couldn't help feeling the resentment whilst defending the brother she never knew. "As much as that could have helped him dodge a resurrection, I think he would rather have felt the cold of the northern winds on the wall than the cold embrace of death, don't you?" Tyrion asked rhetorically. She could only agree with him. Logic overshadowed pride. Still, her mind was troubled with another, more pressing question.

"There is something else concerning you, isn't there?" Tyrion asked as he turned to meet her, noting the expanding frown upon her lips. Daenerys took a moment to answer. "There is a saying about when Targaryens are born" She began. "When a new Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin" Tyrion quoted. "An unjust statement" Daenerys snared. "But one that you've seen first-hand" Tyrion concluded. She thought back to Viserys. As his ambition grew, so did his madness. He was willing to gamble with lives unjustly for what he desired. He even gambled with hers. Such was the extent of the damage to his mind. Then there were the stories of her father. They needed no grand explanation in that they spoke for them self. "Do you think they'd use resurrection as a method of deciding?" She asked, wavering somewhat at the idea.

Tyrion rubbed the stubble on his chin as he pondered over the thought. "A very interesting theory" he murmured. "Do you suspect Jon, in realising what he is, to be a threat?"  
It was something she didn't want to openly admit but Daenerys had worried about this respect. There could be a possibility, in realising what he was, that Jon might want to overthrow her, with the power of the north behind him, and take the Iron Throne for himself. She felt a chill run down her spine at such a thought, one to even rival the cold outside the castle walls. "You're a very clever man Tyrion Lannister" she spoke, staring off into space as she trembled at acknowledging such a dark conspiracy. "And you'd be a very foolish woman to believe that Daenerys Stormborn" Tyrion replied almost instantly. He turned to her for reason as he continued, knowing he had her attention. "If Jon Snow has maintained any of the man he was before then honour will be his policy. You might not admire Ned Stark. Neither did I at a time, but he was one of the most honourable men you'd have ever met. I'm sure he taught that to Jon as he did all his children" he rounded off.

Daenerys felt some renewed confidence in that respect. Tyrion had been a valued advisor to her and hadn't lied to her yet. She was sure he would repeat the trend. Eventually, he got up from his seat. "I wouldn't lose sleep over it your Grace" he began. She blushed somewhat. That was ironically what had been happening. "Maybe you should think about getting some rest. It's been a hectic few days. Some might even think you're going mad if you keep it up". On the outside, she chuckled at his joke as he walked off. Inside her head however, something had clicked with that statement. A new paranoia welled within her. Perhaps she had been thinking about this all wrong. What if Jon was the one on the right side of the God's coin and she wasn't? The fear it brought pushed her towards the edge as it coupled with that of potential revolt and death at the hands of the white walkers. She began breathing heavily, pacing around before falling upon a seat.

Her perch gave her a direct view over the centre of the room. The cold, hard press of the seat was unlike anything she had ever felt. Looking down to see where she had fallen, she discovered she was on the Iron Throne. She took in the depth of the experience as she battled her paranoia. There was no joy. No comfort. No great revelation of victory. Instead, all she felt was fear. Had madness led her to the throne, only to take her father's place as the mad Targaryen at the head of seven kingdoms? 'No, I won't submit to this. I won't' she thought in her mind, desperately dodging the accusations the darkest part of her minds threw at her. She held her head in her hands as the pain of the stress started to get the better of her. 'No, Tyrion was right. I just need sleep. I just need rest' she kept telling herself. Another voice overcame her thoughts however. One of a deep baritone that she had not heard before. It spoke to her in High Valaryian.

"You'll sleep when you're dead".

She jumped up from the throne at the voice, startled and panicked as she sought for breath. "Who's there?!" She called out in anger. No response. She walked out into the middle of the hall. The walls seemed to be closing in on her as she frantically glanced about for any sign of life. The more she searched, the further she panicked. The voice began again.

"You would betray your own father and let the Kingslayer slip through your hands? Your enemies surround you Daenerys. There is nowhere left to run".

She cracked at those words. She sprinted from the throne room, slamming the door shut behind her and not looking back. Thankfully, nobody had been around to witness her plight. A Queen in distress would have not been a very unifying image for those residing in King's Landing. "Tyrion?" She called out, hoping for some sort of response. Nothing. Only the echoes of her voice as they pieced the still, silent corridors. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. 'It was nothing' she told herself. 'I am Daenerys Targaryen of Old Valaryia. Breaker of chains, mother of dragons. This place is my birth right and I have claimed it with fire and blood'. She kept repeating those words in her mind as she walked out into the courtyard for fresh air.

The cold winter freeze hit her full on as she felt the snow falling upon the open spaces. This was certainly a hard climate to become accustomed to. Even to the Northerners resident in the capital at the minute, this cold was too cold. It was literally the exact opposite of the climate she had basked in as ruler of Meereen. Targaryens had come to Westeros from warmer climates during the long summer. Their kingdom of Old Valyria was even warmer than that. The cold was simply not in their nature. She shivered as it began to break down her inner defences. She tried to fight it of course. If the cold could defeat her so easily then her enemies could tear down King's Landing in days. Daenerys did as she had always done. She stood and embraced this new challenge. It was a new chapter in her life and a new beginning for the Seven Kingdoms. She could only pray that it wasn't the beginning of the end.

A piercing roar broke through the sound of the winter winds above. She looked to the sky, past the blinding snowfall, and saw Drogon in the air, flying proud across the city as he stretched his wings. Her dragons had taken roost just outside the city on the banks of the Blackwater Rush. They liked to stretch their wings every now and again. To the mortal men below however, seeing a dragon of their size could both inspire and terrify in equal measure. She pondered on the metaphor forming in her head. Maybe that is what Tyrion had been hinting to her. If she was truly blood of the dragon, she would rule in that way. She would inspire the people and terrify her enemies. The path to rule was there in front of her. Now was the time to take action. Turning back into the security of the palace, she knew she had much to do.


	2. Chapter 2

A minimal beam of morning light began to illuminate the cells of the dungeon beneath Kings Landing. It was enough to wake Jamie Lannister from his light sleep. Checking to his right hand side, he found that Tommen and Myrcella were still sleeping peacefully. He wouldn't disturb them now. Sleep was a precious commodity in such a cold cell. It had taken them a while to drift off. He could hear other prisoners shivering as the cold winter winds whipped their way through the barred windows of the dungeon. This snow hadn't let up it seemed. In fact, it had only gotten worse. The Lannister prince rubbed the emerging stubble on his lower chin as he pondered his situation.

He hadn't been able to shave in days, not whilst under lock and key. Still, he knew it could have been much worse. He could well have been on death row, down in the lower expanses of the prison, quivering from the cold so much that he'd beg for death in the end. He could only imagine how Cersei must have felt. Still, he had been spared that fate...by a certain little brother. "You know, I've never seen what appeals to those who desire a 'minimalistic look' to their abode" a voice spoke in the emerging light. Looking outside the cells, he saw Tyrion sat upon a small stool, blissfully chomping on a fresh green apple. "Call me pompous if you will, but I've never been one to dispel a bit of extravagance every now and then". Jaime made sure his children were still comfortable and asleep before making his way toward the edge of the cell.

He didn't quite know how to react to Tyrion at first. On the one hand, he was happy to see his little brother had survived for so long and was still spouting his legendary wit rather than facing the executioner as Jaime had found him not so long ago. Then again, this was also the man who had murdered their father and ceased to intervene in their sister's death sentence. It was this bitter feeling that was evident in his face as he stared back at Tyrion. "Good morning to you too" Tyrion spoke again after a moment, biting into his apple once more. "What are you doing here?" Jamie murmured as he continued to watch his brother with eager interest.

"Am I not allowed to visit my own brother?" Tyrion asked rhetorically, slightly questioning Jaime's motives in his mind. He knew a response as frosty as the weather outside may have awaited him upon visiting the trapped lion. Still, he had to maintain a cool head about it all. Jaime didn't answer once more, allowing Tyrion to make the next move. "I brought you these" he stated, reaching down to grab a small burlap sack. Walking toward the cell, he reached the bag out so it was in touching distance of Jaime. He took it reluctantly, his curiosity getting the better of him. Looking inside the bag, he found a batch of fresh green apples.

"I wasn't going to let them starve you and the children" Tyrion begun in a far more serious tone this time. "This will be over soon. I won't let them treat you like animals". Jaime looked to the apples, then to his sleeping children before looking back at Tyrion. "Why?" Was all he could spare as he looked the free man in his eyes. Tyrion was slightly confused, holding back on a solid answer for a second before Jaime spoke once more. "Why do this for us? Why spare us your Queen's justice?"

Tyrion could have easily quipped a million comebacks to the trapped man, his knowledge of the situation first hand giving him a fair few significant answers. He chose to remain straight faced though. He wouldn't mock his brother during his plight. "You saved me from the chop, at the risk of angering our own father. I wouldn't have been much of a brother if I didn't fight for you too. I wouldn't want them to harm Myrcella and Tommen either. They are innocent victims in all this". Jamie had a head full of reactions. He wanted to scorn Tyrion for even mentioning their father. He also wanted to thank him for such generosity. He kept his emotions in check however, his poker face remaining straight as he asked his next question.

"What about Cersei?" Jamie asked. Tyrion feared that question was coming. "Saving you could well have cost me my life. Risking the anger of a scorned Targaryen Queen and trying to plead for the safety of the man who murdered her father was no easy task" he began again, seeking logic in his sibling. Jamie only repeated his question however. Tyrion sighed as he could see his brother was determined to get a straight answer. He looked him in the eyes as he began. "Jamie, you must understand that there was nothing I could do to reverse that outcome. The courts swayed the decision. It would have been me against King's Landing. Believe me when I tell you I've been there before!". Again, Jamie couldn't decide his emotional out bearing on this news. He simply sat back in his cell, conceding defeat in trying to save his sister.

An awkward silence hung between the two as they realised the consequence of this statement. Eventually, Jamie spoke. "When?" he asked again simply. "Later today. Her entourage is part of a public execution" Tyrion told him, a dour tone to his voice as he explained the grim news. "I'm guessing it's in traditional Targaryen fashion" Jamie noted sarcastically, an image of the scenario becoming clear in his mind. "Well, this Targaryen has actual dragons as opposed to just their flames" Tyrion added, furthering the ironic statement. Jamie paused for a moment as he remembered the huge black beast that had confronted them in the tower and the silver Queen who rode it. It's roar still resonated in his ears, a terrifying sound not heard in King's Landing for almost three centuries.

Tyrion looked at his brother as his mind seemed to disappear into deep recollection. Eventually, he plucked up the courage to ask a rather personal question. "What happened in that tower Jaime?" he asked. Jaime suddenly steered his gaze toward Tyrion. His face spoke the question his lips couldn't muster. 'How do you know?' Tyrion beat him to the punch however. "Daenerys told me how she found you all when she came...crashing in. She was just as confused as me". Jaime didn't want to answer for the moment. He simply looked towards his children, in particular Myrcella, who was cuddled cozily next to her brother. His prolonged silence gave Tyrion the time to piece two and two together. "She threatened the children didn't she?" he asked in a very sombre tone. Jaime didn't want to answer for a moment. The pure thought of how his sister had acted was enough to break down even his resolve. He remembered the crazed look in Cersei's eyes and the look of fear in Myrcella's as she held a knife to her daughter's neck.

"She had lost her mind Tyrion" he began, struggling within himself to recall the events that had led to that day. "There was no reasoning with her anymore, not even over the safety of her own family. She was willing to destroy everything for the power she had always wanted. We had to stop her".

"We?" Tyrion asked, now curious. "Brienne, Bronn and I" Jaime answered. "We only conspired to depose her from the throne and to stop her from limiting Tommen to the shadows. When she saw they took my side over hers however…" he trailed off as he struggled to come to terms with what he was saying. "She decided that if she couldn't get her own way then nobody would" Tyrion put bluntly, concluding the statement. Jaime wanted to leap to his twin sisters defence. He knew he could shout all manner of insults back at his little brother and weigh up a counter argument so false yet so great it could crush the length of the city when it fell on its own, erroneous weight. His mouth moved before his mind could however. "That's not true" he blindly responded, his natural inhibition to defend his sister clouding his judgement.

"Don't play the fool Jaime" Tyrion responded, amazed by his own brothers ignorance. "You know what she was capable of. True, I can't deny that our sister had the intelligence to play this game to the very end. That much I can't take away from her". Jaime hung on his words as he sought truth in some shape or form. "But to risk the lives of her own children? Would you have really allowed that? You wouldn't have even let her harm Joffrey would you? Let alone Tommen and Myrcella?"

'No' was the answer that lingered on Jaime's tongue. It was clear as crystal. He knew Tyrion spoke the truth, yet whatever lingering trace of love remained in his heart held back dismissing his sister. Tyrion could see from his face that he had conceded defeat however. "They need you now" he told Jaime, pointing to his sleeping niece and nephew. "More than she ever did". After a frail moment of rejection, Jaime simply nodded in approval. "I need you Jaime. You are my brother and that much will never change. Besides, there have never been any Lannister's with as much weight to their mind as their pockets than us". The pair laughed somewhat at this statement. Jaime could scarcely entertain the thought of humour right now though. He felt a great numbness seeping through him, one that wasn't a result of the cold.

Tyrion could see that enough had been said now to make peace with Jaime. He didn't want to over egg an already delicate situation. It was done. He got up from his perched position in front of his brother and prepared to leave. "I will be back later, I promise. And when I do, it will be with the keys to this accursed cell" Tyrion stated, looking up and down the degrading prison. As he walked away however, he heard his brother's voice call out after him. "Tyrion! Wait!" Jaime harked, speaking loudly as he could whilst be children slept. It stopped his brother dead in his tracks. It took a great deal of Jaime's considerable courage to request what he did next.

"Before this all ends, try to make peace with Cersei" he pleaded. Tyrion wore a look of shock on his face at such a request. "Have you lost your mind?! This is the same Cersei that wanted my head on a spike, even before what befell Joffrey!" He exclaimed. "Even if I wanted to, do you really think she'll even entertain the thought of me talking to her civilly?"

"I wouldn't ask if I didn't at least think there was a chance" Jaime replied, trying to swing the argument in his favour. "I'm not asking for miracles. Just please try. For their sake". He ushered toward the back of the cell as he finished, making it clear he wanted this for his children more than himself. Tyrion held his head in his hands for the moment as he struggled to even comprehend the thought. This was the woman who would see him hung from the tallest tower of the Red Keep as food for the crows if she had her way. The only shred of a connection they had now was blood in their veins. Tyrion prepared to turn back and tell Jaime that he simply 'couldn't do it'. To his surprise however, the Lannister prince had retreated back into his cell.

Walking towards the stairwell, Tyrion paused for a moment as he reached its entrance. His mind was a jumble of thoughts and mixed feelings, something he didn't normally experience sober. He felt an aching guilt hanging over him, one which he knew would only increase if he ignored his brother's request. He racked his brain over how he could even fathom facing Cersei. He didn't even know how she would react. Anger was a certainty. Disgust and shame would follow. Depending on how long that lasted, who knew what he could expect next?

His pride begun to get the better of him however. Jaime had never asked much of him before. He knew all too well that, despite her venomous nature, Cersei had been one of the few people in this world he had ever truly cared for. Soon, he and their children would watch their mother die at the hand of royal justice. Ironic as it was, nobody would want that as a lingering memory of their loved one, fated to hold that image in their head for the rest of their days. Tyrion knew exactly why Jaime wanted this; if his niece or nephew ever asked him of their mother, he would be able to give them a dignified answer rather than an account of hate and loathing.

Abandoning what seemed like all logic, Tyrion held his coat closer to his person for warmth and proceeded to the lower level of the dungeon. Everything began to darken as he reached the bottom. The torches on the wall barely even illuminated the surroundings, let alone provided any warmth. The temperature kept dropping further, plumes of steam now evident from his own breathing as the air cooled. He imagined that this unavoidable chill would be nothing on the icy reception he would receive from Cersei however. Reaching the bottom, Tyrion saw a dark and forbidding corridor, lined on either side with even blacker cells. Only two of the unsullied guarded the entrance. He wondered if, even with their merciless training, they too had found it unbearable after a while.

Creeping past the cells, Tyrion saw little signs of life. Whatever sounds the prisoners made were muffled and subdued. The main sound was the chattering of teeth in the freezing conditions. That was followed by a mixture of snoring and sobbing in second place. Despite reduced visibility, the silhouettes barely illuminated by the fleeting light didn't display much movement. Many either slept or coward in dark corners, possibly contemplating their fate. Tyrion suspected that some of the more lifeless figures may have already been dead. Such were the horrors that the losers in war could endure.

His destination it seemed, was at the very end of the row. Looking toward his left hand side, the flickering light of a nearby torch just about illuminated a familiar figure, huddled close to the corner with a face concealed by messy blonde hair. Tyrion swallowed a gulp of fear as he steeled himself for what could come next. "Cersei?" He whispered into the darkness. At first, the spectre in the shadows did nothing. Tyrion braced himself for what he expected to be something reminiscent of a pouncing lioness, consumed in a ball of rage after it had been denied her kill by an inferior scavenger. He whispered again.

"Cersei?"

This time, she did respond, her body reacting to hearing the voice so familiar to her memory. It was only a slight jolt of movement, though enough to turn her toward Tyrion direction. He, in the meantime, held fast for what would come next. Her reaction though was one he did not at first anticipate. She swept the dirtied hair from her face to locate the source of the calls with her own eyes. The dim light strained her eyesight. All she could make out at first was a silhouette, standing firm with its watch upon her. She couldn't make out its origin at first glance. Tyrion could see this from her face. It was like she hadn't had any contact in years, not days. Her lips had lost their trademark smirk, so self proud and defiant. Instead, they quivered along with the rest of her as she sought some relief to her dark isolation.

Tyrion could only look on as he saw the frail shadow of his sister. Though she may have been what he considered an 'enemy', seeing anyone in her current condition would have been a sorry sight. It looked as though, for the first time he could remember, hope had abandoned her. She had been cast down from the lofty heights of power and privilege, fated to be the sacrificial lamb in front of a snarling, unforgiving world. Eventually, Cersei's eyesight began to return. The shadow before her began to gain more form and stature. It was the later that was the giveaway. Only one person in her life stood as short as that.

Her timid expression begun to materialise into a realisation of disgust and loathing. This is what Tyrion had prepared himself for. As he waited for the pounce however, he found it didn't come. Instead, as he opened his eyes, he found her to be smiling. It was more of a smirk than anything of course. The familiar expression of 'only I'm right' that she often wore. It caught him off balance before she spoke. "So this is how the Gods see fit to send me off" she begun, her voice hollowed and somewhat coarse at first. "With mockery and dissent". "I am not here to mock you" Tyrion replied almost instantly, leaping to his own defence. Cersei would not be that easily swayed of course. "Why else would you be here?" She chuckled, quietly but sinisterly. "You've always loved to revel in my failure. I'd say, at a guess, it gives you as much pleasure as all the wine and whores you could imagine".

Tyrion almost couldn't deny such a statement at first. It was true that he loved to get payback over on his sister, the same woman who had loathed him since birth and wanted to see him constantly humiliated into submission. It was a natural defence. For Jaime's sake though, he swallowed his pride. "I am not here to mock you Cersei" he repeated. "I've come to make peace. For Jaime's sake". Again, Cersei swallowed his words and spat them back out before he could continue. "Jaime? The man that wanted me dead so he could steal my children from me?" She spat, anger seething in her words now. "You know that's not true" Tyrion intervened, trying once more to install reason.

"You weren't there" she continued. "You didn't see how he turned them against me. Against their own mother. The woman who raised them whilst he hid in the background, too cowardly to be their for his own children"! Her voice reached a shout as she made clear what she thought now of her brothers seemingly obvious deceit. Tyrion could have argued with her but that argument could go on until her execution if he so pleased. That was time neither of them had. "Why did you threaten Myrcella in the way you did?" Tyrion questioned her, cutting to the chase. "She disobeyed me" Cersei replied in a hollow tone. "That's a good enough excuse for you to hold a blade to your own daughter's neck?" Tyrion responded, aghast at how low even Cersei had sunk.

Cersei tried to keep a straight face, as she had always done, holding back the raging emotional outburst swirling in the depths of her subconscious. "They would have done away with me there and then if I hadn't shown strength. It's what our father always taught us; keep the Lannister name pure, no matter the consequence". Tyrion could scarcely bear to look at her, let alone listen to the twisted evil she spouted. Jaime was certainly right in the sense that she didn't see logic anymore. She continued her tirade as he came to grips with it all.

"Why would you even care for my children anyway? You seemed all too happy to dispose of the Lannister bloodline" she accused him. This spurred Tyrion into a more headstrong defence. "If you are referring to Joffrey..." He begun. "The boy you murdered" Cersei interrupted, holding her ground. "I did not murder him" he finished angrily.

"Liar".

Her accusations caused him to clench his fists in frustration. It took a very deep, calming breath for him to continue. She didn't even look at him as he spoke. "You can carry that opinion to the grave if you want to" Tyrion told her. "The fact remains though that I will be around to look after your children long after you are. Do you really want me to recall this to them after you're gone?"

"If they believe your gospel over mine then they are as dead to me as I will be to them in a few hours" Cersei replied bitterly. He could tell there was little thought in that statement. Just anger, misery and resentment in the form of words. Tyrion just sighed. "Well, I can't say I didn't try" he said, resigning to defeat. There wasn't much more he could say to sway her back to reason. He begun to turn his back on his doomed sister when he heard her voice resonate once more. "Did you ever wonder why father hated you the way he did?" Cersei asked, trying to draw a rise from him. This did indeed cause Tyrion to stop dead in his tracks. She had caught his attention.

As he turned back to her, her grin beamed wider and more sinister than ever. She willed him for an answer, one that he seemed all too curious and terrified to give in equal measure. "Because I was never like Jaime. I could never be the heir he wanted for Casterly Rock because of what I am" he spoke. Cersei however, said nothing. She still sat there, hanging on his words as she awaited what she wanted to hear. "Because I'm a dwarf". As Tyrion felt the all too familiar pain of his father's rejection and his reasoning behind it resonate throughout his memories, Cersei just begun to laugh. "I take it you still find that funny?" Tyrion answered through clenched teeth. "Oh Tyrion, do you really still think it was simply being of a short stature that really made father hated you?" Cersei smirked as she turned to meet him. She fed off the confusion and pain evident in his face. Even behind cell bars, she still loved to feel in control.

"I...don't understand what you mean" Tyrion stuttered as he stared down his sister. As much as logic and reasoning battled for supremacy over confusion in his head, he felt he could hear a faint voice resonating in his darkest thoughts. Something he had comprehended previously but dismissed as pure fiction. Cersei however, seemed intent on drawing this out. "Do you really think father would abandon family over something so simple? You could have had two heads and father would still call you a Lannister with pride like it was the norm". Tyrion further braced himself as he tried to find sense in her words.

"No, that wasn't the reason. Tell me, what was the last thing father said to you before you did away with him so cruelly?" Cersei asked. They both sensed they were close to the pinnacle of this conversation. Cersei of course, continued to revel in her control. Tyrion could recall his father's final words clearly, seeing his face so bitter in his memory as he remembered him choking to death on a collapsed lung, an arrow embedded in his chest. "You are no son of mine" he echoed, hearing the words in his head like Tywin was still speaking to him. "And why did he tell you this?" Cersei quizzed him, driving the final nail home in her point. Tyrion didn't answer. He knew there was an answer. The voice in the dark nether regions of his mind now wailed like a banshee, begging for release onto his tongue. He couldn't accept it however. He was simply paralysed by fear. In such a rare moment in his life, he was at a loss for words. His eyes willed for Cersei to put him out of his misery. She was more than willing to oblige.

"Because you are no Lannister at all. I remember father cursing such a happenstance almost every day when we were younger. He hated your existence because you are nothing more than a Targaryen bastard".

Her words hit him with such a force that he felt like the great wall in the north had collapsed upon him. This was something he had theorised in his solitary moments ever since he and Missandei had released Daenerys' Dragons in Meereen. The way they had looked at him. Not as a piece of meat or another threat, but as something they understood. Now it all made sense. All the abuse and the secrets he had endured was simply because his father hadn't stuck him with the knife upon his birth. He had been living a lie and he hadn't even realised it. This was Cersei's ultimate victory. She had always been insesent on demonizing him with little to no reason behind it. Now he understood why. She had the same loathing of his existence and how it had seen their mother perish that Tywin had. Maybe even more. As she spoke again, Tyrion quickly composed his mentality. He had a comeback, enough to battle the dark thoughts overwhelming him.

"Do you understand now?" Cersei continued. Tyrion turned to face her once more. He could see from the look on her face that she thought she had struck the final blow, twisted the knife in as far as it would go. There was no reason to fear this anymore though. It was simply a matter of logic. She could say all she wanted, yet it would still not bring her any clarity. It certainly wouldn't bring her freedom. Tyrion held the key in this conundrum and he knew exactly how to use it. "Well from what I understand, being a Targaryen at the minute is seen in high regard" Tyrion answered. He tried to maintain confidence in his voice, though the traces of fear were still not fully extinguished. Cersei fed from this.

"Do you really think that Targaryen slut on the throne will ever accept you?" She hissed, her words poison in his ears. "There's was a family of lunatics and deranged individuals. If she finds out, she'll kill you in order to stop you overthrowing her". Even Tyrion hadn't thought of that. Daenerys was certainly not that kind of Queen. However, she had never been faced with another Targaryen in a position of power. He would have to keep this quiet. He would also have to keep Cersei quiet until her execution this afternoon. He would have to speak his mind, whether it appeased Jaime or not.

He prepared his words carefully, assessing how he would deliver them. Tyrion thought about how he had come close to death an abundant amount of times since all this began back on the Kingsroad so long ago. A shadow had loomed over him ever since, yet he had overcome everything it had thrown at him. This was just another challenge to defeat in the same manner as he had always done.

"I don't think you quite understand do you?" Tyrion questioned her. "Understand what?" She snapped back, not even giving him a chance stake a claim. "No matter what you say now, no matter how you try and unnerve me, it will not matter. I know who I am". Cersei's smug grin began to drop as he continued.

"It doesn't matter whose blood runs in my veins or whatever tie ins that may have had. I have lived my life as Tyrion of House Lannister. I have made my name as a lion of Casterly Rock. I've carved a legacy into these lands in the name of our family and I will continue to do so long after today. I was raised with Jaime as my brother and you as my sister. So that will remain, until the day my children's children see me off into the arms of the Seven. And while your scattered ashes continue to whip around this city for a generation, I will continue to live my life as such, proud of who I am and what I've become. And now you'll take that into the next life as the last thing you ever remember from someone who tried to speak courteously to you".

There were no words after this. Just a long, deafening silence. Even the other prisoners had fallen quiet after listening to the only sound of interest echoing through the cell block. Cersei had no comeback this time. No insult, no threat. Tyrion had defeated her in this battle of minds. Her face remained numb in a perpetual state of anger and shock. With nothing more to say, Tyrion simply walked away. He knew he had won this battle, leaving his sister incapable of a response or an answer to curse him with. Yet he couldn't help but feel terrible for it. These were the last words he'd ever speak to her. In spite of everything, he had begun to take Jaime's suggestion to heart. What if this was all he remembered her by? It would just be another blackened thought amongst the many that littered his conscious. That was certainly how he had not envisioned to remember any of his siblings.

As he approached the guards at the end of the corridor, he heard a shrill rasp echo through the darkness, pleading for him. "Tyrion!" It called. He was tempted to stop and acknowledge it. The pure terror and guilt in its tonality was something the likes of which he'd never heard before. He couldn't go back however. Not now. "TYRION!" it shrieked once more. He simply held his nerve as he approached the stairs and began to climb, the screams becoming ever quieter as he ascended out of this hellish place.

***

Morning came too soon again for Daenerys. Her efforts to rest had once again been in vain as her troubled mind kept her awake. Even in her brief sleep, she had been plagued by nightmares. In them, she had stood alone in the darkness, the snow falling upon the ground and the scattered bodies of those she loved, past and present. Only a silhouette of the iron throne was visible through the black mist. She had broken and screamed to the heavens for mercy at the horrific sight before her. There was no answer however. Just a shrill, piercing wind chilling her to the bone as the bodies around her were buried in snow. She had awoken in a cold sweat just as Missandei had entered the room. Her friend had tried to comfort her as best she could. The nightmare would be one that remained prominent in her mind however throughout the rest of the day.

She had gotten herself prepared and ready for the day's proceedings, dismissing Missandei to help others for the morning. Staring at her own reflection as she readied, she could see the sleep deprivation in her eyes once again. The bloodshot lines made her exhaustion all too obvious. She could only hope that her vibrant purple iris' would distract her acquaintances later on. Looking out of the window as she continued, she could see that the snow had ceased temporarily in its constant assault on the city. It was of course still bitterly cold however. Only the naked flame of the fire kept Daenerys warm as she prepared. She longed for the days of free flowing and breezy summer dresses should could adorn in Essos. Instead, the thick, bulky wear of the north had to suffice in order to stop her freezing to death. They did their job, though were far more uncomfortable to her.

Skipping the breakfast Missandei had brought her, she took the longer route to the throne hall in order to meet with her company. Drifting lonely through the halls once again, she found herself where she seemed to be ending up far too regularly; outside Jon's room. Peeking open the door, she found the room deserted this time around, save for the idle figure of Jon laying still in the bed. She approached the sleeping ranger and knelt down to whisper words into his ear. She spoke in high valyrian, knowing not whether he would even understand her. "Please wake soon, blood of my blood" she cooed, planting a small kiss on his forehead as she pulled away. Her lonely vigil was interrupted once more by Missandei seeking her. "The delegation waits below your grace" she informed her Queen.

Reluctantly, Daenarys followed her translator down to the throne room to meet the procession of lords and ladies who would oversee this execution. She held her nerve as she arrived, the voice that spoke to her the day before still as prominent in her memory as the nightmares that had plagued her. The only voices she found however were those of delegates who had gathered. Members of her small council, houses Stark and Aeryn and her Queen's guard all greeted her as she met them one by one, doing her royal duty in addressing those with power still to hold in this fractured Kingdom.

Eventually, she managed to find Tyrion as the crowd fractioned off into smaller groups. "You don't have to sit in on this you know" she informed him, sensing the anxiety that must have been dwelling deep within him. He was indeed lost in a thoughtful stasis, though over something completely different to what she was presuming. His mind was still consumed over the events of this morning and what he had been told by his soon to be doomed sister. It took a moment of hesitation before he processed what she said. "I'll be fine your grace, honestly" he lied to her, even forcing through a minuscule smile to instill confidence. It took Daenerys a minute to really grasp his response.

"I don't understand how you can be so calm? She is your sister after all" Daenerys questioned him. "When the first thing you see in life is your mother dying due to your birth and you've killed your own father before he could kill you, I think witnessing the sister who wanted me dead on false accusations face the justice she has long deserved is probably like some sort of second nature to me" Tyrion sighed, doing his best to put her, and his own mind at ease. Daenerys didn't fully believe him yet could understand his logic of the situation. She had felt the same way watching Viserys face the justice of a Khal. She would now deliver the same as a Queen.

Their moment of clarity was cut short when Greyworm approached him, speaking to her in their native tongue. "The prisoners are being collected by Blacktooth's company. They will soon be delivered to the pit" he informed her, referencing the fighting pit being used as a makeshift execution platform. Daenerys nodded in approval as the crowd began to fall in behind her and her guards. She walked with Tyrion to her left, still sombre in the occasion whilst Daario flanked her right, the cheeky grin he would often sport glancing at her in an attempt to fill her with confidence. She pondered on how she come about such a cast she had picked to help rule so long ago. She remained straight face throughout however as in her mind, she called out to her children.

The pit was only a stone's throw from the Red Keep. The company was overlooked on their journey by the citizens of the city, curious to watch both their new rulers in the open and their old ones meet their fate. The arena and its seating overlooked Blackwater Bay and the narrow sea. Once calm and tranquil, the waters were now aggressive and fierce, a danger for those who made the crossing. Daenerys was still coming to grips with the fact that but for a month or so, she was standing on the far shores of the other side, now swallowed by the horizon.

Tyrion began to recall a memory as he took his seat in the royal box. "Ah I remember this place" he mused. "I didn't have you down as much of a fighter" Daario replied, mocking his obvious lack of a battle hardened form. "You'd be surprised" Tyrion told him, recalling defending the Blackwater in his mind. "Besides, it was someone else fighting on my behalf". "Was it a good fight? Daario asked in curiosity. "It was, until the mountain gouged his eyes out" Tyrion told him, cringing as he recalled the memory. It was enough to make Daenerys wince upon overhearing their conversation.

"It's a shame really. You would have liked him your grace. He was a very eccentric character" he continued as he addressed his now seated Queen. "Was he married?" She joked as she played upon what Tyrion had planned for her in his ideal vision of rule. He scoffed at this question, stifling back laughter that Daenerys didn't quite understand. "Let's just say he was very _open_ on the idea of love and its pleasures" he informed her. "I believe he did have a partner of a sort though. Lovely woman. Tried to poison my niece once according to Jaime". Daenerys just rolled her eyes at such a sentiment. It would definitely take her a while to truly understand the culture of Westeros.

A sounding toll of bells silenced the small crowd soon afterwards as it signaled the arrival of the prisoners. They were being led here straight from the dungeons where they would be tied to a set of wooden stakes overlooking the sea. From there, Drogon would deliver the Queen's justice. Daenerys closed her eyes and entered her own mind for a moment as the Lannister and Baratheon loyalists were led in. Her dragons were close by. Of course, the procession present were not the only ones paying close attention. The entire city was either watching or listening in one way or another. From the Red Keep, those who had stayed behind watched keenly from the windows, intrigued in seeing a Targaryen's justice being carried out for the first time in years.

Among them were Jaime and his children. They had been released from their cells and allowed their effects as Tyrion had promised. They were still watched by number of Queen's guard however, trapped in a tower room until such time as their new ruler saw fit to release them. They watched on from the window as they saw their people being marched into the pit. Jaime just felt a great numbness overcome him as Myrcella and Tommen held him tight. Their mother was at the front of the procession. Down on the ground, Cersei shivered as she was led forward under the watchful gaze of the city she once ruled. They had already humiliated her once when the faith had shamed her previously. Now they would watch her die at the hand of another Queen, or more seemingly her Dragons. She shuddered as the cold air bit into her flesh, blowing at the rags that was once her dress. She began to hear the aggressive calls of the crowd for her blood. They would rejoice in seeing her those loyal to house Lannister die.

The unsullied soldiers aimed their spears for the hearts of their victims as they were tied to the posts one by one, making certain that none would be able to escape. Cersei could feel the icy sea air devastating her skin even more as she hung, watching the Dragon Queen approach as she was led down from her perch. She would not show fear. She would remain as stern as she had always done, whether that be in life or in the face of death. This show of force from the opposing lords of Westeros was nothing she couldn't handle. The roar of the Dragons overhead however was enough to make her jolt slightly. Jamie and her children heard it from their vantage point too, witnessing first hand the beasts swooping in over the city as they descended upon their mother's calls. Whilst the two smaller dragons circled watchfully over the bay, the large black terror he had seen before landed in the pit next to its mother. Clearly it was he who would be the prisoners executioner today.

Drogon heralded his arrival with a mighty roar as he took his place beside Daenerys. It was enough to make even Daario cautious as he took a berth to Daenerys and her 'child'. She patted him lightly on the crown of his face, hushing him with a gentle whisper. With Drogon subdued, she turned her attention to her captives, in particular Cersei Lannister, as she began to address them. "You are here today in the eyes of the seven to face the justice bestowed upon you by the people of this city. You have been found guilty of crimes against the crown and its people. For this, you will be sentenced to death". Cersei just rolled her eyes in defiance at the self righteous preaching. "Do you have any last words you'd like to say?" Daenerys asked them. The majority did not answer. They remained silent in the presence of the Queen and her snarling monster. One voice however did eventually speak up. "I have something to say to you, Daenerys Stormborn".  
She turned to find Cersei awaiting her, clearly with something to say. Daenerys edged closer as she prepared to hear out the last guilty plea of the usurpers former wife. She failed to notice her true intentions until it was too late. Cersei spat at her with force, a wad of phlegm landing right on her face. "Fuck the Targaryens" Cersei growled as she tried one more desperate attempt at defiance. Daenerys had barely flinched however, still staring her enemy straight in the eyes. Up in the tower, Jaime just bowed his head with shame at his sister's final actions. Clearly she had abandoned all pride as well as dignity. Wiping the phlegm from her face, Daenerys took one last look at her enemy before she walked back over to Drogon. "Make sure she is first" she told her Dragon in Valyrian.

Drogon screeched another mighty cry as it awaited its mother's final command. The guards backed away as the audience held its breath. Cersei stayed defiant on the outside as the other prisoners around her began to cower in terror. Inside however, she was petrified with fear. All eyes looked now to Daenerys as she made sure everybody was watching.

" _Dracarys_ ".

Drogon reared his head back, summoning up a breath of scorching flame from deep inside his chest. Without warning, he shot it forward, straight toward the Lannister captives. The air encapsulated in the flames practically burned away the ice with its intensity. First came the screams of the prisoners as the flames engulfed them. Their cries rang out across the bay, the searing pain of the flesh being melted from their bones being the last thing they would ever feel as death embraced them. Then came the gasps of shock and horror from the congregation, reeling in shock at what they had just witnessed. True, it had been their decision that consigned the prisoners to their fate, though none of them could truly fathom what they were to witness. Up in the tower, Jaime turned his face away from the horror and closed his eyes, feeling his children bury their faces into his chest as they couldn't bare to watch their mother die.

Eventually, a solitary voice spoke out to Daenerys among the chaos. "The representatives from High Garden are here your Grace" Daario told her. "Excellent" she replied neutrally, still watching the sight before her. "We have a small council meeting to attend".


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys watched on from her window side vigil as her Dragons continued to circle over the lofty heights of the palace, staying close by upon sensing their mother's unnerved nature. Although she knew she had the loyalty of her most valued protectors looking out over her during this council, she still kept cautious. This was her first formal meeting with the heads of the Westerosi houses, the rulers of the Seven kingdoms in place of the last Targaryen, since her capture of King's Landing. Already it was cursed with the luck of a sinner. There was no sign of the Iron Island representatives. There reasoning probably had obvious roots. However, one of the Targaryens older allies in these lands, the Dornish, had not showed either, confirming even further their fall to the religious fanatics of the Lord of Light.

Those who were in attendance were a scattered and unorganised bunch at best. The only houses that stood with any true remaining accolades and flourishing lands were those of Houses Tyrell and Arryn, yet even they were rife with either civil dispute or fear. The Starks were being represented by a young boy and his sisters, with their ancestral home having been ripped from them before this war with the dead had even begun. The Baratheons had all but been wiped out by previous war or justice, with only a few lower ranking families being able to speak on behalf of the people of Storm's End. The Tullys had been erased all together after their last members fell at Harrenhal so there was nobody to represent the Riverlands. And then of course, there were the Lannister's, or more specifically Jaimie Lannister, who was hardly impressed by her recent rulings of justice, but was still here regardless. Tyrion would keep him in check.

The lords and ladies had begun taking residence in the main room, awaiting the Queen's approval to begin. There wasn't much intermingling between them. Most of the houses resented each other for one reason or another, a summer's worth of deceit, treachery and war fuelling those fires. The heavy tension and silence was enough to begin unnerving even Daenerys. Tyrion could see this in her expression as Missandei helped clean her up, her face still slightly smeared by soot and smoke from her Dragons flames and their results. Whilst she was a strong leader at heart, she was still youthful. Those follies could still emerge at any time.

"Just remember what you've learned" he lectured her, swirling a tall glass of wine in his left hand as he began. "These people may seem intimidating, but they can be overcome by strength and initiative as well as intelligence. You've possessed all three of those traits in the past dealing with the masters of Slaver's Bay. This will be no different". Daenerys knew he had a point but she still had doubt lingering on her already troubled mind. "That didn't stop them rebelling and killing hundreds of people" she replied, her uncertainty obvious in her words. Tyrion laughed somewhat at his Queen's naeivity as he took another swig of wine.

"If you're going to believe one thing out of my mouth today Daenerys then believe me when I say that those 'leaders' out there are very far from ever trusting each other enough to rebel right now". A small, shy smile crept on to Daenerys' face, though until this meeting was over, she would always maintain a hint of scepticism. She took a deep breath and watched as Tyrion poured another glass from the jug present on the nearby table, being considered 'presentable enough' now to face the delegation.

"Does wine help? With all this?" She asked out of curiosity. "Wine helps me with everything your Grace" Tyrion smirked, gazing down at the deep red liquor swirling in his cup. "It's got its cons and pros though. Best to take it in moderation" he advised, taking her hint into consideration. Pouring out another glass, he handed it to her. She took a deep look into the red liquid, smelling the fruity aroma rise from the beverage. Taking a small sip, she noted how sweet it tasted compared to that she had been used to in Essos. She was surprised Tyrion could still be such a connoisseur with his choice despite the obvious lack of supplies coming to the city.

Daenerys steeled her mind and her expression as she prepared to greet the council. She kept Tyrion's advice in mind and remembered her past experiences. She had ruled over people like these before. She could do it again. Eventually, the group emerged, Missandei leading them as Daario and Greyworm flanked the wings as the Queen's two most trusted protectors. Tyrion accompanied Daenerys out, taking his place beside her as the Queen's hand. The reactions amongst the group varied as they gazed upon their new Queen. She looked back at them, beginning to decipher who was who.

The Tyrells had been represented by Lord Mace and the wise Lady Olenna, with Margaery still banned from the capital by law. Lord Tyrell looked upon her in amazement, his first sighting of a true Targaryen in years being one of wonder and marvel. Olenna wore a mostly neutral expression, keeping her thoughts private until they were required. The Starks, though noble, looked out of place amongst the weathered veterans. Young Rickon was at their lead as direct heir to Winterfell, having matured in his tenure as a Lord whilst under the guidance of the stewards of Bear Island.

He was accompanied by both his sisters, the elegant Sansa and the fiery Arya, again not much older than he. Both they and Yohn Royce, an experienced knight and lead representative here on behalf of the Arryns and those trapped in the Vale, looked upon her with more honour than she would have first expected from them when she first landed in Westeros, her saving their 'bastard brother' and pledging to free the north a key factor in that.

The Baratheons were represented by what seemed like a younger upstart and an experienced captain, both of whom she did not know. The younger, Elvar Eroll, was a young man with the standard mop of black Baratheon hair, a thin face and frame, as well as a superiority complex as he looked to stake his claim in this meeting as well as defend his house's honour with blind valour. The other, Davos Seaworth, was far more calm and composed. Though she did not recognise him by name, she remembered his face from the rescue at Harrenhal.

There was only one Lannister representative in Jaime. Whilst he would always hold the title of 'Kingslayer' in her mind, she would learn to suffer him in order to keep Tyrion at her side. Jaime didn't pay her much dividend as she entered, keeping a straight face that harboured hidden intentions. She was only thankful that she had his 'brother' at her side to help him see more sense than his sister had.

As the Queen took her seat at the front of the table, the others waited for Missandei's command before taking theirs. She and Daenerys both glanced at one another before the former spoke. They had come a long way from being oppressed as they were in Essos before meeting each other. Now they commanded word of the lords of the Seven kingdoms. Daenerys also took a look at Daario for assurance. Their expressions spoke the words for them.

'I'll keep them in check'.

'I can look after myself' was Dany's.

Looking out over the table, Missandei began the proceedings. "Noble representatives of the Seven kingdoms. You are in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name. Ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. The unburnt. Breaker of chains, mother of Dragons and rightful Queen of the Seven kingdoms".

The young representative from Storm's End simply rolled his eyes at such a profound forgery of extravagance. Lord Tyrell seemed far more enthralled however. "My word, it is true" he gasped, taking in the presence he hadn't seen in years. "I could recognise a trueborn Targaryen a mile away with eyes as vibrantly violet as yours". "Oh do hush, you're making a fool of yourself" Olenna intervened, reeling the clearly smitten Lord back in. Daenerys took his compliment in good stead.

"May I also introduce Lord Tyrion of House Lannister, hand of the Queen" Missandei continued.

This brought a vocal, unimpressed tut from the arrogant Baratheon representative. His companion even seemed caught off guard by his obvious ignorance.

"Does something amuse you?" Daenerys asked him sarcastically, trying to draw reason from such an outburst. "Well it seems preposterous, your grace, that such a character as the imp could hold such a seat of power on the royal council" he replied snidely, clearly unimpressed at such an appointment. Tyrion just laughed under his breath at such a statement as he swirled his wine somewhat. He had heard this all before and knew exactly how to counter it. "Elvar, of house Eroll is it?" He began. "The Baratheons most loyal representatives yes" Elvar replied, trying to assert his position amongst the council.

Tyrion looked directly at him as he weighed out his counter insult. "Tell me Lord Eroll - how many terms as hand of a King or Queen have you served"? Elvar had no reply for this. He was simply taken aghast at the Lannister's ignorance in calling him out. Jaime in the meantime, smiled at his brother's defence, missing the legendary satire he could spout on que. "In fact, I don't believe house Eroll has ever directly served as the hand to the Lords of Storm's End have they?" Tyrion continued, further making a fool of his competitor. Elvar clenched his fists in disgust, shaking mildly with pure anger at Tyrion's words. A stern hand on his shoulder from the other representative curbed his actions however.

Daenerys was curious now of the other Baratheon subterfuge, seeing he was clearly the more reasonable of the two. "You sir. I'm afraid you're the only person on this council I'm not familiar with. What is your name?" She asked the older gentleman. "Davos Seaworth your grace" Davos replied, bowing his head in respect. "I'm not quite a member of a long and prestigious bloodline like everyone else here, but I was a close representative of Stannis Baratheon and fought alongside Jon Snow at Harrenhal". "Yes, we all know of your story, Davos Seaworth" Olenna Tyrell interrupted, beginning her analysis of the man. "The story of how you supplied Stannis with provisions against our army is one of great merit in the Seven Kingdoms it seems" she noted with sarcasm.

Her distaste for the man's past actions was clear. Tensions were beginning to boil over now as the lords of the various houses spoke their minds. Daenerys made sure this would end before it began however. "We aren't here to dig up skeletons of the past Lady Olenna" she began, addressing both the wise yet scorned Tyrell matriarch as well as the rest of the council. "This council has been raised to discuss the immediate future of the realm". Olenna wasn't ready to back down just yet however. Despite her house's former alliance to the Targaryen Empire, she didn't know this girl or what she had planned in her pretty little head.

"Forgive me your grace, but I thought the roots of justice were set in what has been done and not what is yet to occur" she pointed out. "The Queen's justice has already been served in full to those stood against her previously Lady Olenna" Tyrion butted in, jumping to Daenerys' defence. "Ah yes, the traitors to the throne. I only wish I'd been here sooner to see their family's humiliation after what they did to ours" Olenna smirked, seemingly picturing Cersei's execution at the hands of Dragons with great content. Jaime remained silent, though both he and Tyrion displayed a hint of dismay at this.

"Now now, this is meant to be a delegation of peace, a new way forward" Mace spoke, trying to spare his House's blushes as bitter bedfellows in the eyes of the Targaryen ruler. "He's right" Rickon spoke up from across the table, making himself known. "The future of the Seven Kingdoms lies at stake and we are the ones to decide its fate. Pointless disputes will only dismount unity". Elvar seemed to take more interest in the boy to his right than the bickering Tyrells and the so called Queen before him.

"Honourable my boy" he merited his counterpart. "I'm guessing you are of the north". "I am Rickon Stark of Winterfell, yes" Rickon answered him, not fully convinced by the Baratheons olive branch. Then again, he was sceptical of all those around him who had conspired in his family's downfall. "The rightful heir to the north" Arya added, making sure that the council knew this was no mere boy. On the other side of the table, Olenna smiled at her confidence. "You must be Eddard's other daughter then" she addressed Arya. "I can see you have a fighting spirit about you". "Thank you" Arya replied. "It's something we'll all need in the wars to come". She turned to meet Daenerys as she stated her earlier quote. Daenerys shone a look of thanks back at the young Stark girl.

"Look, I think we're getting rather off track here" Tyrion sighed as the constant bouts of superiority amongst these 'leaders' began to make his brain hurt. Daenerys could sense his frustration as she experienced it herself. Some of them were behaving like children as opposed to heads of great houses. Still, it was beginning to give her an idea of who she could trust and whose intentions lay elsewhere. "Let's begin this meeting properly if we are to do so at all" Tyrion continued as he fumbled with a small letter in his pocket of his waist coat. Olenna just folded her arms in discontent and frustration whilst the others sat patiently.

Fiddling a small parchment from the envelope, Tyrion cleared his voice as he commenced. "Of course, there are notable absences from our calling today. There has still been no contact from House Martell or any of its allies in Dorne". Some concerned faces began to form in the room at this grave news. "There is however a letter from the ruler of the Iron Islands regarding their position". Tyrion cleared his throat but a slight hesitation in the letters content kept him from reading it aloud for a second. "It states...'We do not sow. Go fuck yourself Targaryen'... Signed sincerely by Asha Greyjoy, Queen of the Iron Islands".

Daenerys rolled her eyes at the pitiful insult. She did not have the time or patience for their pestering. Ironically, the same feeling was mirrored by Olenna Tyrell, though she was far more vocal about it. "Oh to the Seven bloody hells with the Greyjoys. If they want to rot on those islands than let them"!

"I must agree, this is irrelevant right now" added Yohn Royce. "Let the Queen speak of her course of action". All eyes turned to her at that moment. As much as she had been engaged in the conversation, everyone converging on her at once caught Daenerys off guard. It took a moment of brief hesitation before she rose from her seat and engaged her audience.

"My lords and ladies of Westeros. Now is not the time of for division and indecisiveness in these lands. Our families and their accomplishments stretch back for eons yet they could be erased in mere days in the face of the storm to come. The dead ravage the north, adding to their armies with the dead they create. We cannot let this go un-abided, lest we suffer the same fate".

Olenna interrupted her upon hearing the statement. "I'm sorry, but do you really believe these Northern fairy tales?" She spoke, almost taken back by what she considered foolishness on behalf of the Queen. Ironically, the same sentiment was now mirrored in Dany's mind about stubborn old matron. "Lady Olenna, I have seen them for myself. Even atop my Dragons, I felt the immense danger this presented. The warriors of the north have fought this enemy alone long enough. It is time we stood beside them, as a realm united". Whilst many at the table headed their Queen's warning, there was one unlikely source who seemed to back Olenna.

"Do you really expect us to believe that is the only reason the Northerners are migrating south?" Elvar intervened. "They seek passage to these lands for its resources and plenty. True, I will not blindly deny that their corner of the world has been decimated and oppressed by the previous stewardship of course". He looked at Jaime as he spoke this, who in return just rolled his eyes. "But we've seen this before. When the North has become too cold to inhabit, they feel the need to seek shelter and refuge from the cold like any mortal men". "The north has weathered enough winters without Baratheon intervention" Rickon instantly replied, jumping to his people's defence. "Do not call my people liars and beggars when we have defended our lands for eons". Elvar, taken back as he was, would not be upstaged by a teenage boy.

"Boy, you may be of a noble birthright but you have much to learn about this world and the way it works" Elvar tutted, dismissing what he considered to be youthful ignorance. This angered Rickon. "So you'd sooner let thousands of people being cut down unmercifully go unnoticed? Is that what you're trying to tell me?!" He spat back, clearly not impressed with this upstart Lord from the South. "And how many of my people have had to suffer a premature death in defence of this crown? You aren't the only people to have lost out here" Elvar aimed back. Their anger was at its peak now with these jealous gestures. Daenerys briefly looked to Daario, who held close the hilt of his curved sword. A peacekeeper came in the most unlikely form imaginable before he could act however.

"Enough!" Jaime shouted, clearly having enough of the two boys and their bickering. "The Queen has spoken of her concern in this matter and we, as a small council, must help her find a solution. Honestly, you call yourselves politicians?" He questioned them as he sat back down. This did inevitably shut up the two stubborn young lords. However, it only lit the kindles of another fire. "Oh and look who's talking" Olenna patronised. "Don't try and preach honour to us, _Ser Jaime,_ when it was your house, and indeed your nephew's doings that have led the Kingdom into its current climate". Jaime could handle criticism of himself but he would not tolerate ill words against his children.

"Yet it seems that you were all too keen to marry your own into not only our own, but both of these _deceitful_ households you criticise in order to gain a foothold in the realm. Tell me, where does the loyalty of House Tyrell really stay?" Jaime countered. This was not what Daenerys wanted. She had been worried about the houses of the Seven Kingdoms turning upon her. Instead, it seemed they were perfectly content to turn upon each other. She held her head in her hand as the overwhelming pressure of what she sought to achieve became all too real. Tyrion could see the stress in the expression of the young Queen and decided to intervene.

"Honestly, do we need a bell? What is the point in this endless quarrelling? We could sit here and pick out each other's faults for an eternity. I'm sure even the walkers would grow tired of waiting for us to finish in the end. Time is not a luxury we have anymore" he told the council. Jaime took his words into consideration. Olenna kept quiet for a minute, crossing her arms like an aggravated child not getting their way. Daenerys gave Tyrion a look of thanks in subduing the situation before she tried to continue.

This meeting was turning into a disaster already and it had only just begun. Daenerys held her head in her hand, the weight of what she was really undertaking really dawning upon on her now. Still, she had to be strong and decisive as Tyrion had taught her. She needed something that would shut the bickering lords up and assert her position as the one in control. As her stress began to build, she could sense her dragons were feeling her frustration. She called out mentally to Drogon, who had been monitoring his mother's emotional state. From his position high over the city, he swooped down toward the palace.

As the pointless insults were thrown, a deafening roar came from outside. Drogon was circling the palace, using his sheer scope and size to intimidate the council, the shadow of his wingspan enough to blacken the sky outside. This certainly resonated amongst the group, their instant silence a sign of obedience in the face of power. It was enough to even catch Daenerys' closest off guard as the humongous beast sensed its mother's frustration. Daenerys stood to attention, overlooking her subjugates as she asserted her authority. Outside, Drogon landed on the roof on the palace, its foundation trembling as the dragon perched his weight upon it. He let out another terrifying roar, one that could be heard throughout the city. It was enough to startle and wake many, even those who had been in a deep sleep.

Daenerys saw this brief intervention as a moment to seek clarity amongst the council. "Justice will be answered. I have seen the tyranny of cruel men first hand and the atrocities they bring upon their people. I have never let this go unpunished and I assure you now that justice will come to those who deserve it. But it will not be today. Today is a day for decisiveness and moral. Surely some of you must harbour it". The committee simply sat in silence, even the most vocal of the group now paralysed at the tongue by the Queen's impressive display of power.

"This isn't about the right to rule over the common people anymore. This isn't about the right to who has the most gold or the most land. Those battles will be fought another day" Daenerys continued, asserting her stance on the situation. "Right now, the only battle that matters is the one to survive. We are living in a fractured land, poisoned by those to seek to divide us, those who seek to deceive us - those that would see the living extinguished and scattered to the wind with the dirt and the snow".

"She's right" Rickon spoke up, seemingly having the most courage amongst the lords. "We can't just sit idly and argue over these pointless matters while people continue to die. Pretty soon, we won't have a Kingdom left to be indecisive over". Yohn Royce nodded in approval at the boy's courage and the example it led. "Now is the time to banish the old ways and put aside old rivalries. I will if you do". With this, he extended his hand out across the table to the man sitting directly opposite him. "Rickon!" Arya exclaimed, not trusting a Lannister for a second. It was enough to catch both Jaime and the others by surprise. He looked down at Rickon's extended hand before gazing up at his face. The young man was holding back on all the hate he felt, the fires of revenge still evident in his eyes. Despite all that though, he was willing to try.

Jaime extended his natural hand, needing Rickon to change over sides which he soon caught on to. The two enemies grasped each other by the hand and looked directly at one another. "I will fight beside you Jaime Lannister, for the future of the realm" Rickon told him, looking the man whose family had demonized his own dead in the eyes. "And I beside you Rickon Stark. For the realm" Jaime answered, shaking the hand of the boy whose father he so used to loath for looking down upon him. Even Daenerys was surprised by their actions. It was a thin truce, one that balanced on a literal knife edge, but it was a start.

The two lords retook their seats, the rest of the temporary cabinet reluctant to be the one who would follow up such actions. Eventually, Lord Tyrell spoke. "Well...whilst I can't falter your ambition and courage, one question remains. How do we fight an army of the dead?" He asked, voicing the question on everybody's lips. "Now _that_ it something both I and Davos can answer" Tyrion replied, allowing the knight of fleabottom to take the lead. "Valyrian Steel" Davos told them. "I've seen how it can down a walker first hand. It's the only thing they fear". Elvar looked at him with surprise, not suspecting a former pirate to have the answer to all their questions.

"Why didn't you tell me you knew this?" The Eroll prince asked, seemingly quite displeased by the actions of his so called comrade. "To be perfectly honest your grace - you didn't ask" Davos told him rather bluntly. Elvar just folded his arms in frustration. It was enough to make Arya giggle under her breath, the arrogant man being frustrated being a source of humour. Sansa elbowed her lightly for this, hinting at her to remember where she was and whose company she was in. "How do we obtain enough of this to fight such a massive army? I thought Valyrian steel was only found in relics" Mace questioned. "It's quite simple really. We forge as much as much of it as we can" Tyrion answered, confident in his response.

"How on earth do we go about that?" Olenna queried. "Well we use Dragon Fire of course" Tyrion replied. "With three Dragons? Big as they are, I'm sure even they won't be able to spare enough fire to weld what we need". "That's where you underestimate me Lady Olenna" Tyrion began. "If my...recently deceased sister decided anything faintly helpful during her controversial rule, it was that stocking the underground catacombs of the city with Dragon Fire was somehow a good idea". "You mean?" Jaime exclaimed.

"Yes my brother. We are sitting on top of what is, quite frankly, the biggest explosive in the Seven Kingdoms".

Several of the delegates looked down to the floor in nervousness, almost expecting the humongous figurative firecracker to go off at any second. "That was something you failed to inform me of when we began torching the city from above" Daenerys patronised. "Let's not go over that again" Tyrion sighed, the thought of another bout of justifying himself in front of her not seeming very appealing. He still had the council hanging on his words, something which he quickly took advantage of once again. "Since I learned of the threat facing us, I decided to take it upon myself to arm every blacksmith in the city with as much of it as they could handle. They've been working day and night to arm the royal army".

"How did you convince them to do that?" Rickon asked, still stunned by such a bold proposal. "A Lannister always pays his debts" Tyrion answered, contently smug in his position right now. He found an unlikely approval from the Tyrells. "Now that certainly is big ambition" Olenna noted, pleasantly surprised by what she considered an otherwise loathsome little man. "For such a short body?" Tyrion mocked, wanting to draw her bluff. "I wasn't going to say that?" She replied, quite confused. "But you were thinking it. I've heard it many times before" Tyrion patronised, taking a gleeful sip of wine as he revelled in proving his point. He was enjoying himself.

"My unsullied can't face this force alone, even with this new armament. We will need more fighters" Daenerys hinted at the congregation. "The north will fight for you!" Arya answered, triumphant and almost instantly. "Arya?!" Rickon exclaimed at his sister's sudden outburst. "Well it will won't it? This is our fight more than anyone else's here!" She pleaded, seeking sense from her seemingly apprehensive brother. "I don't mean that! I mean how will we get everyone outside the city walls to fight on our behalf?" Rickon questioned. "You are a Stark of Winterfell. They will listen" Yohn told him. "I would lend you the forces of the Vale your grace but...".

"You are dutifully excused from this call Lord Royce. Your people need to be protected" Daenerys reassured him. His expression was a thankful one upon this news. "Well what about the South? These zealots and madmen of the Rhoynar are right on our borders and burning anyone they can get their hands on!" Olenna protested. "The South will not be left defenceless Lady Olenna" Daenerys answered. "The Tyrells forces will be needed in the north but we will still need protectors of the South. That is why I am also excluding the Lannister's from the call".

This took the room by surprise. Even Tyrion wasn't aware of her intention. "My Queen, the Lannisters have the largest army in the Seven Kingdoms outside your own" he stammered as he saw a different page to the one she did. "Precisely. With other forces fighting in the north, does it not make sense to leave the most well equipped force to guard the free lands?" Daenerys put to him. He could see her logic in doing this, though it would create obvious tensions. Daenerys didn't quite understand its implications either. In truth, she didn't trust the Lannisters being anywhere near King's Landing. They were unpredictable at best and had betrayed the Targaryens in the past. Having an army of them on her doorstep wasn't a comforting thought. She could only hope that, in holding this fragile truce with Jaime Lannister, he would keep them preoccupied at Casterly Rock. It was an idea crafted of either genius or madness. 'Madness' she thought. There it was. That word again.

The protests brought Daenerys back to reality. "Do you really expect us to trust 'Lannister protection'? After all they've put our family through?!" Olenna shrieked, her dismay as high as it had ever been. "I must agree with the Tyrells, they are not to be trusted" Elvar added swiftly afterwards. "Lord Eroll, you've not seen what we're fighting" Davos tried to intervene. "And you watched the seven kingdoms most of your life from a boat Ser Davos. You don't know what these people are capable of" Elvar hissed. For all the criticism he received, Jaimie remained neutral in his expression. He had been used to jealousy and bitterness aimed his way his entire life. In the end, it was simply 'water off a ducks back'. "If you are so strung to the past then let it be so" Daenerys said, playing their bluff. "I cannot command your armies. Only you can give them the order. Even then they may reject you. I have always believed the people should have a freedom as to what they choose. They can either die fighting for a stake in a broken Kingdom, or they can believe that there will be another tomorrow for honour to remain a part of. The choice in what you tell them it seems, is yours".

Again, this silenced her critics. She was starting to win them over with a stern will. Tyrion's lessons had come in well. "The Lannisters shall warden the South my Queen, if that is what you desire" Jaimie assured her. She thanked him in kind regard. Jaimie wasn't a fool however. He could see her divided motive toward his family. At least this way, he had time to restore what was theirs. He would play the game, as he had always done. "One question comes of that your grace. With such, divided loyalties, who could lead an army of such size and diversity?" Mace asked. He made a very good point. Daenerys hadn't thought this herself. She didn't expect the various armies to rally behind her automatically. They would need a leader of a neutral stance, someone who knew what was truly at stake.

"Am I too late to make a contribution?"

Daenerys glanced around swiftly to meet the unknown voice. Others around her recognised it instantly. The accented northern voice had come from a character still wearing the same black leathers the brothers of the Night's Watch had given him when they had betrayed him. He limped somewhat from his leg injury and looked like he had been dragged through a mill backwards, but he was alive and awake.

"Jon!" Arya screamed with joy as she ran to embrace her brother. The other Stark children followed swiftly afterwards, jubilant to see the boy they had been raised with standing tall once again. "Ok ok, watch the bruises!" he joked as he held them close. "Well I'll be damned. The bastards alive" Tyrion mused, impressed by Jon's resolve. Whilst the others around her applauded his return, Daenerys remained far more subdued. She should have expressed the same delight. She knew it to be the only logical conclusion. His violet eyes shone as brightly as hers, the 'dragon' beaming with joy to be back amongst the living. Here he was, the closest thing to another true Valyrian descendant she would ever see. Yet all she could hear was the voice of fear, shouting deep within the confines of her consciousness. The madness was telling.


	4. Chapter 4

For the remainder of the council, Daenerys felt trapped, like a prisoner in her own head, consumed by a bubble that drowned out all logic and rational thought. On the outside, she kept a neutral expression but spoke very little. Both Tyrion and the council did most of the talking for her as they gradually came to an agreement on how best to face the menace that now plagued their realm. Whilst her advisors spoke on her behalf, she either found herself blankly staring into nothingness or directly at Jon. Several times he caught her glance, though didn't know what to make of it. He was seemingly preoccupied with directing the leaders of Westeros on what he had seen and how they could combat it. He too was a little apprehensive of some of them, though Arya assured him that even the Lannister's were on their side now.

Whenever he did catch Daenerys looking at him however, he saw her staring directly into his eyes. At first, he was clueless of what to make of her peculiar nature before he eventually caught wind of the reason. Her eyes glowed with the bright violet glimmer that he had caught in his own when he woke up. It had been enough to take him with a hint of shock upon first witnessing it. His once deep hazel irises were now alight with the vibrant, alien colour. He didn't have time to question Sam on quite what was causing it when he woke. He just had an instinct that he was needed, like he had been summoned at just the right time. It was as though he felt a call resonate throughout his very soul, willing him to quell the situation already in progress.

From there he had dashed to its call, blanking Sam's pleas for medical aid despite his limp. It took him a moment to pause and actually realise where he was. He had never stepped foot in King's Landing in his life, being no fit place for him as a bastard of the north. Yet the call led him on. It had no real words, just strange whispers that seemed to echo through the hallways and resonate within his mind. That's when he had come across the council, locked away in their chamber, debating the future of the realm. It took some rather hefty and lucky persuasion of the almost foreign looking guards outside to let him in. That's when the signal in his mind had felt its strongest. As he barged his way in, he believed he had found what the call had led him to; the lost Stark children, who in turn were overjoyed to see him too.

Yet it hadn't faded. All the time he was present in the room, every time he spoke, every time he listened, he could still feel it pulsating away. The only link he could think of was this purple eyed young woman sitting at the head of the table, staring right back at him. Did she feel it too? He needed answers. When Tyrion Lannister had called time on the meeting, he sought instantly to seek out this woman before she could leave. That seemed like something she was very much keen to do as she almost dashed away, not even giving a final greeting to the gathered congregation. He tried to chase her down.

"Wait! We need to talk. About all of this" were the first words from Jon's mouth. It was enough to halt her and her group. Several of them looked at him with puzzlement about their expression. A foreign woman clearly working on her behalf and two soldiers, one more 'sellsword' looking than the other. It was from the more professional of the two however that he got an indication as to who this woman was. Embedded upon his upright shield was a small crest, deep red, in the shape of a three headed dragon. It took him a brief moment of hesitation to piece two and two together; this girl was a Targaryen. A Targaryen Queen.

"The Queen has had, a rather exhausting day Lord Snow. Could this not wait until morning?" Tyrion suddenly piped up. He turned his eyes from him back to her. She was looking directly at him once more, the violet pools of colour in her soul glancing right back at his. "Your grace" he began, trying to form a sentence that was leaving his mouth quicker than his brain. "In the morning, Jon Snow" she mirrored, quickly interrupting him. It was a somewhat stern reply, though one he could catch almost embellished with a hint of uncertainty. She took her leave with her representatives, the sellsword giving him a particularly lengthy departing glare as he fell in behind them. He could hear muttered, distant words from Tyrion, talking to her quite abrasively as they walked. Before Jon could home in on their speech however, he felt a pair of smaller arms wrap around him.

"We were so worried about you Jon" Arya told him, her voice a mixture of happiness and relief. He was glad to see them too. He was certain they'd have plenty of questions for him and he for them in return. "Never mind me, I'm just glad to see you all again...what in seven hells were you doing at Harrenhal?!" Jon exclaimed as he recalled the memory of his youngest sister lashing her sword back and forth to fight off the hordes of wights encroaching the walls of the ancient fortress they fought at. "We've got a lot to talk about tonight it seems" Sansa interrupted. He looked back at her before turning back to Arya, who seemed to concur. He couldn't deny Sansa was right. There was definitely a lot to discuss. The already low light concealed by the clouds outside was dimming, the early winter's sunset plunging the realm into darkness once more. Jon looked north, far beyond the ramparts and fortifications of the city. He expected a darkening storm to approach, the rolling blitz of thunder and a bitter blizzard just like that he had experienced at Hardhome. There was nothing however. Just a bleak, pale winter. Indeed, there was much to discuss.

Despite the slightly more populated presence in the palace, the place was still deafly silent as day gave way to night. Jon stayed in the company of his siblings in a secluded room, listening intently of all the stories they had to tell whilst they inevitably listened to his. Some were a little more apprehensive to open up than others, the horrors the Stark children had endured very much evident in their faces. Rickon mourned Bran, not having seen the other young Stark prince since they departed just south of the wall after escaping the clutches of the Greyjoys at Winterfell. From there, he had travelled to Bear Island with Osha, staying protected under the stewardship of the lords still loyal to the Starks and the true north. During a sea faring trip to Bravos on an expedition, he found Arya, lost and blinded wandering the streets. Arya inputted about her escaping King's Landing and the Brotherhood without Banners, before her journeys with the Hound and eventually making her way to Bravos to seek out the House of Black and White. Jon took particular note in how she had came across Melisandre.

Afterwards, they had travelled south to seek the help of the college of maesters in Old Town. That's where they'd found Sam and were able to cure Arya. From there, she had insisted on going North once more to find Jon as they heard of his efforts to stand against the walkers. In a different life, they could have all been dead in the face of an unstoppable force, were it not for the sudden intervention of a Targaryen Queen and her three Dragons, scorching a wall of fire into the land as the last defenders abandoned their post at Harrenhal. Jon knew that this war was far from over. The walkers had something to challenge them now. That would make the spawn of the Night King more deadly than ever.

"What of Winterfell Sansa? You said you'd been back?" Jon questioned her as the nearby fire crackled, keeping them warm. They hadn't gotten the chance to talk much in the Vale. Sansa it seemed, was far more secretive and apprehensive with her words. Jon could see the pain in her eyes as she recalled what had transpired without a single phrase leaving her lips. The innocence of the young girl who used to laugh and play in Winterfell had been extinguished by the savagery and betrayal she had to endure. "There is no Winterfell now. Not anymore" she sobbed. "The Bolton's smeared the name of what was once our home". The thought of the vile traitors to the North was enough to make her squirm, particularly the cruelty of Ramsey.

"I bet the walkers had fun tearing him apart" Arya smirked, trying to find a way to comfort her sister. Nobody laughed however, particularly Jon. He had seen what these menaces could do first hand and the destruction they would bring to all if not stopped. Sansa managed to go on a little more, recalling to them of how were it not for Theon, she would most certainly be dead. They had gotten as far as White Harbour, where they briefly managed to shelter from the Bolton's hunting them, thanks to the bravery and kindness of Johann Forrester, the young northern prince who had sheltered them. That was of course until Petyr had found her again. She remembered the life disappearing from Theon's eyes as 'Littlefinger' had buried a dagger into his heart. She didn't speak much more of that particular day, remembering all too well in her mind of how his men had dragged her off kicking and screaming as the Greyjoy prince had fell into a pool of his own blood.

Were it not for the intervention of Jon in the Vale, she would have surely been locked away by Petyr Baelish forever whilst he toyed with the realm. Taking Jon's suggestion on going back to King's Landing with Yohn Royce was hardly a comforting thought to her at the time, considering the cruelty she had endured under the still ruling Lannisters. Still, she was wiser this time and in the company of those she could trust. No longer would she be some starry eyed girl from a land far away. She had found a sense of purpose in out running her captors, yet the memories would always haunt her. The group bowed their heads in sorrow at the fate of Theon, despite his earlier madness. Honour stood before revenge in their house and, were it not for his intervention, they would have certainly been another Stark down.

Jon decided not to end the night on a grim note, recalling stories to them of their youth in Winterfell, reminding them of the times they spent with both Robb and Bran as they larked about in a more carefree mentality. It seemed to perk up their spirits. Despite their maturity in the face of danger, they were still children at heart. Jon was relieved they hadn't changed that much. Sending them to bed, he took his own leave back to the chamber he had woken up in. He hadn't gotten much time to examine the pokey little room when he woke up. It was cluttered with random boxes and trinkets, the countertop on the cupboards littered with Sam's medicines and books. Looking toward the corner of the room, he saw Longclaw stood up upon its hilt, leaning against the wall. Red dashes lined its surface as it sensed the nearby presence of its owner. How the sword reacted in such a way to him was still unbeknownst, save for the Red Woman's assessment of him being 'the prince that was promised'.

As he lay back trying to sleep, his mind was consumed by thoughts of what was to come, the imminent war against the walkers and the resistance to the R'hllor in the South a constant back and forth for the future of the realm. There was nowhere left to run now. If Kings Landing fell, the Seven Kingdoms would lay in ruin. Those weren't the only thoughts to flash back and forth in his mind however. So caught up in Melisandre's words for the past month as that was all he had to go on, he had barely gotten any time to think about what he was. What he had become.

He remembered visions of his father when he had died, or at least the man who had raised him. He was so apologetic, even though he need not have been. He told him about his mother as he promised he would. He revealed how his lineage was not truly of the north, nor was he the bastard of Eddard Stark at all. He was in fact the child of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen before his fall at the trident to Robert Baratheon. Ned Stark had saved him from the Kings justice and had taken a hit to his own honour in harbouring a 'bastard' amongst his own children. Jon wished he could have only had more time with the honourable Lord before he was brought back. No matter what his outcome became from this path laid before him, he would always consider Ned to be his father.

A thought began to dawn on him however. This Queen who now ruled Kings Landing was indeed another Targaryen. He wasn't as alone in the world as he first expected. He'd heard rumours whilst on the wall of a silver Queen across the narrow sea, bringing justice to Slavers Bay with her Dragons at her side. Whilst Jon didn't believe any one portant would win this fight, she was as close as such a miracle could be. She was new to all this however. Whilst Westeros had weathered this storm and the winter that spawned from it, she had only been a factor in the rule of these lands for the past few weeks, her claim to these lands being a family name and three fire breathing terrors. Whilst it was too early to judge her on what he knew, he sensed he would have to talk with her sooner rather than later. There was a lot to be discussed.

Indeed, Jon Snow wasn't the only one having a sleepless night. A few floors above him, it wasn't only the bitter cold keeping Daenerys awake. She was still trying to decipher her own actions from today, having calmed down significantly from when she had first seen Jon stood before her. Tyrion had tried talking sense into her as they retreated to somewhere a little more private. 'The boy knows nothing' he had told her. 'Don't consume yourself with these false accusations. Your mind is your weapon Daenerys, don't let it rust into decay'. She knew he was right yet the worries still frittered around her thoughts. She had seen first hand now how he stood before the lords of the Seven Kingdoms with all the answers. What if they took a different answer from this?

It would not take a genius to notice the obvious trait they shared; the purple eyes of someone truly of the blood of the Dragon. She was glad it had never emerged in Tyrion. Whilst he might of had Valyrian blood flowing in his veins, he had been proven to not be a dragon when in the presence of his fellow kin, just like Viserys. Jon was different however. She had heard his call from miles away that day he fought at Harrenhal. She was still at a loss for words to explain what had triggered them to find each other in such circumstances and indeed, what had made their irises change to the deep violet shade they now were, despite what she had gone over with Samwell Tarly a few days ago. As she tossed and turned in bed, they were one of the few things that stood out in the dark reflection caught in the mirror.

She knew she could not hide from Jon forever, particularly if he was going to play the role of general in this newly decreed royal army. She had as many questions for him as he did her. They would have to discover this new path together, lest the Seven Kingdoms be divided further in choosing sides. As an eventual lack of sleep caught up with her, she began to hear a faint voice in her head as she entered the realm of dreams, having no time to react to the foreign, Valyrian words spoken before she slept.

"You'd be a fool to believe him Daenerys".

Morning came too soon for the residents of Kings Landing. Though it was still bitterly cold and dark, their biological clocks forced them into the routine of the day once more. No expense could be spared now in the preparation for their defence. It seemed this divisive city could actually unite when it came to saving their own skins. The representatives from the other houses did not share an enthusiasm to stay outright however, choosing to leave the city as the first light of dawn began to break. The Baratheons, in particular Elvar and his company, were the first to high tail from the capital, already embarrassed enough by their subsequent shaming both on the council and in the face of the executioner.

The others followed suit soon afterwards. Tyrion had made sure to drag himself out of bed particularly early this morning, even if it did require the aid of a squire to do so. He wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see off his family. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd ever see them again. Then again, not much could be certain in these dark days. A brief glimmer of morning sunlight bathed the capital as the Lannister company prepared their horses and supplies for the long journey south west. Tommen and Myrcella managed to get one last hug in with their uncle as the company loaded up. They had grown up strong and pure despite the cruelties they'd had to endure. He was going to miss them.

"Take care of yourself uncle" Myrcella said as the two siblings embraced him. "You too. Both of you. I want to hear all about your adventures next time we see each other" Tyrion replied, his sentiment still playful despite the fact he was quite upset to see them go. It was enough to make Myrcella laugh. "Uncle Tyrion, we're not children anymore" she giggled. "You will come back home right? When this is all over?" Tommen asked, the folly of youth evident in his question. Myrcella's eyes sparkled with the same longing for an answer too, though she was a little more realistic in her expectations. She knew her uncle would have a lot to do before he was truly free to start thinking that far ahead.

Tyrion didn't want to leave them on a sour note. As much as he wanted to be truthful with his own niece and nephew, he knew that a little white lie would be comfort enough for them at least on the long journey back. "As long as you have a bottle of Casterly's finest waiting for me when I return" Tyrion replied, beaming a smile back at the playful young Lannister prince. "You'll drink us dry after the first day I'd expect" Jaime intervened, joining in with the playful banter. "Come on, make sure all your things are in order. We'll be leaving in a moment". The two children did as they were told, giving one last wave goodbye to Tyrion as they left.

He wished he could have answered them a little more truthfully. As much as their vision of an ideal world was an appealing one, he very much doubted that he would be able to return to Casterly Rock, even if he survived this war first. The Queen would most definitely retain him in her service as hand which would tie him to Kings Landing for as long as she saw fit. Then of course there was the matter of him not being the most popular man amongst the lords of Casterly Rock at this stage, what with a certain few murders and blemishes upon their name to account for. Even with Jaime's protection, he would probably feel more safe wandering the cold expanses of the north at this stage.

He and Jaime just stood face to face for a moment, the two brothers getting one long last look at each other. "Hand of the Queen" Jaime saluted sarcastically. "Lord of Casterly Rock" Tyrion replied, keeping up the playful banter. Jaime smiled as he thought over his brothers humourous remark. "Please, that's the last thing I want to weigh myself down with now" he replied, dismissing the idea of having to tame an unruly Lannister hierarchy. "Take the opportunity while it's there Jaime. You'll live to regret it otherwise" Tyrion advised him. "Their my only priority right now" Jaime began, nodding to his children as he made his point. "Still, I guess I've never been one to shy away from a challenge before".

The two brothers laughed as their time together came to an end. Jaime knelt down in order to get to his brothers level. The two looked each other directly in the eyes as they spoke. "Be careful here Tyrion. Especially of her". Tyrion knew he meant Daenerys, his resentment for the Targaryen name in any way, shape or form clearly evident. "She hasn't killed me thus far. I doubt she'll do it now" Tyrion answered, trying to ease his brothers nerves. Jaime however, clearly wasn't convinced. "Even with her newfound apathy for the Starks?" He questioned. Tyrion was a little surprised he had thought that in depth about it despite everything else that had been going on. "I saw how the Stark boy still resents me. Who's to say he might not sway her in that direction"?

"Because she's the Queen and he's just a lowly little boy from the North" Tyrion answered, more grit and defiance about his voice. He didn't suspect his brother to think him so easily played. Intelligence was the only thing about himself he really valued. Jaime looked Tyrion dead in the eyes as he spoke his next words. "I've seen the madness that Targaryens possess first hand. Do you really think Aerys killed the two Starks as part of a just cause"?

Tyrion simply remained silent as he watched Jaime recall a part of his life he very rarely delved in to. "Once he heard the whispers his council fed him, his paranoia only increased, even with the deaths of those he thought had conspired against him. There was always another scapegoat". "So there _was_ a plot against Aerys?" Tyrion concluded with disbelief, his knowledge of history being re-written by his brother.

"Not from the North. From within his own keep" Jaime answered. "It failed magnificently of course. They were only to depose the Starks and take the throne for their own. Their arrogance cost them in the face of Aerys' paranoia though. Fear can become a deadly nemesis". Tyrion simply started back at his brother, aghast at such a revelation. "Why are you telling me this?" He asked Jaime. "Because unless you can talk to the dust floating around the throne room, mine is the only account you'll ever get" Jaime informed him, the startling truth of Aerys' conspirators and their fate becoming all too real in his words.

"I'm sorry". Regret was instantly recognisable in his face as he told his little brother such a horrendous theory crafted by his deepest fears. "You're only looking out for me Jaime. I can appreciate that much" Tyrion began. "But Daenerys is no butcher. I've seen the things she's done and the way she is. This is no 'mad' Targaryen of old we're dealing with". Jaime let a small smirk flourish upon his face at his brothers confidence. "I hope you're right, again". The two brothers embraced in a tight grip as the elder prepared to depart. "Take care little brother" he mused. "You too big brother" Tyrion replied, almost overcome by the sentiment, despite his normally neutral facade.

He watched Jaime walk away as a squire handed him his horse. He managed to get one last smile and a friendly departing wave from the children in the carriage as they rode away. Tyrion could only watch on as the Lannister company trotted from the city. A family that had held sway over the proceedings of the capital for the past two decades was finally leaving for home. He would be all that remained and even he wasn't fully Lannister. 'I'm Lannister enough' he thought as he began to make him way onto the ramparts. Scaling the winding steps of one of the guard towers, he arrived on the wall just in time to see begin to move into the distance. He knew that Jaime and his children would be safer at Casterly Rock. Yet his mind disagreed with the greater good right now, overwhelmed by he would feel thew void of the departure.

Tyrion of course, was not the only one overlooking the noble lords preparing to head South once more. Jon watched on from his room in the palace, having woken early before Sam had even gotten the chance to intrude and begin gathering his things. As always, his friend had plenty to say. "Make sure you don't put too much stress on your leg. It's healed, a whole lot, but it will still be tender for a few days" Sam lectured as he frittered around with his books. Jon didn't answer him for the moment as he watched the Lannister company disappear over the horizon. "I'm glad you're awake now". Jon turned to meet his friend. He had been through a great deal, even after leaving the wall with Gilly. Though he was definitely a different man to the one that came to the wall so long ago, he was, in essence, still the same old Sam.

"Look at you; Samwell Tarly, maester to the lords of Kings Landing" Jon smiled, encouraging his friend as they larked about in their speech. "Well, not really. I mean, I never even fully qualified as a maester before your brother and sister arrived in Old Town" Sam stuttered, his body language a sign of embarrassment as his former Lord Commander acknowledged him in such high regard. "Don't put yourself down. You've done well for yourself" Jon told him, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Sam joined him as the two friends were reunited in each others company once more.

"Well I certainly never saw us sitting here of all places when we took our vows in front of the God's Tree" Sam noted, still easily surprised by his own acknowledgement. Jon just smiled in reply. He knew he could continue this innocent and playful sentiment with Sam for however long it took. He had more pressing questions on his mind however. "How long was I out Sam?" He asked his friend. Sam briefly stalled to calculate. "For around four days" he answered, having the exact figure on his fingers now. "That's almost as long as I was out at the wall when...".

'When I died'.

Jon stopped in his speech as he remembered coming back from the searing pain of being stabbed unmercifully by those he considered his brothers to being in the company of the Red Woman as he lay upon the pyre built for him, and all he had seen through the beyond in between. It was a hefty amount to take in at once. Sam didn't answer for a moment, knowing that must have been a touchy subject for the former Ranger. They sat silently until Jon spoke once again. "What am I Sam?" He asked, the one question escaping his lips echoing a million. "Your Jon Snow. You're my friend. That hasn't changed" Sam answered quite valiantly. Jon smiled at his friends comfort but he still felt like he needed more answers.

"I mean, what have I become? I know I'm still me but I've been made to feel...different, if that makes sense" Jon continued, finding it hard to grasp the right question, let alone the answer. "Well you're free of your vow to the Night's Watch now. Maybe that's making you feel indifferent" Sam pondered, racking to work out an answer. " No, its not just that. There's something more" he said, speaking his thoughts out loud as he questioned himself. Sam beat him to the punch however. "You want to know about the eyes don't you?"

"You know what they are?" Jon asked, a sudden enthusiasm about his action as he wanted to question Sam on all he knew. "Well, I know I'd certainly feel a little offput seeing them in the mirror one morning" his friend joked, trying to see the humorous side of things. Jon was in no laughing mood though. "Sam, I need to know what they are" he pleaded to his friend with a straight, stern expression etched on both his face and tongue. Despite his starting hesitation, Sam knew he couldn't keep the truth from Jon. "I went through the archives in the library when the Queen came to me" he began, recalling the events that transpired just a few days prior while Jon slept.

"She didn't know what they were either. She was just as scared as you". Jon almost wanted to lie and claim he wasn't scared. The stubborn protest remained a silent one however as he continued to take in Sam's story. "We found out that it's a sign of Targaryen heritage. It's only inherited by those truly of the blood of the Dragon". Ned Stark had told him the truth then in his vision. He was most certainly the child of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen. The prince that was promised. "I don't understand. I never saw or even felt any changes until I got to Harrenhal" Jon remarked, puzzled by this new information. "It only becomes apparent when two... Dragons, can truly sense the others presence" Sam explained, recalling all the book had told him, no matter how ridiculous it sounded at the time.

"That's why it was never inherited by Rhaegar or Aerys. They were never true Dragons" Sam concluded. "So where does that leave me? Am I not Targaryen? Am I something else?" Jon stammered as he tried to come to grips with what he was told. Sam wouldn't see his friend left in confusion and despair however. "I already told you. Your Jon Snow" he began. Jon still hung on his words as his mind raced. "You didn't get a fair start in life. I knew my mother and father. I tried to be a good son in their eyes yet I still got sent to the wall purely based on who I was. You didn't even have the chance to prove yourself to somebody. Yet you still did. You proved you knew who you were and what you wanted". Jon began to calm at Sam's words. He seemed like more of a hero to Jon than he felt he was to anyone else right now.

"Don't lose track of who you are because of some jumbled timelines that happened in the past. You're here for a reason Jon". Sam smiled at his friend as the two said little for a moment. "We're here for a reason Sam" Jon finally replied, seemingly calmer and more composed than before. Over the sound of the winter winds howling once more, the two friends heard an increasingly familiar sound. The call of the Dragons echoed over the thin coastline on Blackwater Bay. The creatures were keeping themselves preoccupied, gliding on the currents and swooping down to feast on whatever appealed for them in the low tide.

Jon suddenly became struck by an idea. A crazy idea. "Come with me Sam" he ordered as he shot up from the bed and toward the door. Sam barely had time to react, playing catch up with his friend who was now marching down towards the bay. "Wait! Slow down Jon!" Sam called out from behind. He wouldn't slow up now though. For all his life, people had told him that he 'knew nothing'. It was time for him to figure out what that something was. Pacing himself rapidly, he eventually got to a gate in the wall, ordering the guard to move aside and let him out. Sam eventually caught up, far more winded than his athletic companion.

The Dragons had moved further out into the shallows, still dancing in the mid morning mist. Jon trampled through the mud and silt until he eventually got to a small peak that had risen in the shallows. Standing upon it, he advised Sam to keep back as the enormous beasts circled overhead. Despite being bogged down in the mud, Sam was still happy to not risk being a Dragons breakfast. "What are you doing?!" He called out to Jon through the howling sea air. "I don't know!" Jon answered as he continued to look up. "Hey!" He called upwards. The beasts just ignored him and continued to ride the currents. Again, he shouted to the sky.

"Hey!"

This caught the attention of the Dragons. Whilst the larger two didn't take much notice, the smallest began to descend. Jon began to have instant regrets. This thing was still huge and menacing despite it being the smallest of the trio. He could feel the air becoming heavy and fierce as its wings blew a downward draft the closer it got. Shielding his eyes for a moment, he just about saw the monster touch down. The earth certainly moved when it did however. Looking up, Jon was now staring into the face of the Dragon. Both entities in the standoff seemed as apprehensive as the other at first. Then Jon heard a call from behind him.

"It's name is Viserion!" Sam bellowed. Unfortunately, he had hassled Viserion from his moment. The golden scaled creature let out a large roar at the spare wheel displaying arrogance. Sam simply froze in fear as the beast stared hungrily at him. Jon turned its attention back to him once more as he shouted its name. Viserion looked him straight in the eyes, recognising the violet Targaryen glimmer so familiar yet so strange. As tense as Jon was, he tried to remain calm in its presence. Edging forward with baby steps, he reached out his hand slowly towards the creatures face. It could have taken his whole arm off there and then but remained calm. Jon could feel its warm breath resonating from its mouth as he got closer.

Viserion began to get a little cautious as Jon's hand got closer, flinching slightly in the face of a stranger. Both Jon and Sam held their breath as Jon was within touching distance. Then, without warning, the creature looked up towards the city and called out to an unknown presence. Flapping its wings, it suddenly lifted off from the ground, knocking Jon to the floor and scaring Sam so much he fell with him. Picking himself up from the dirt, Jon gazed towards the city. All three Dragons now flew towards the palace. Viserion in particular landed on a roof just beneath an open balcony. On it, stood Daenerys.

She had watched the whole thing. As she stroked her child on its crown, she looked down towards Jon in the bay. 'So, he can talk to my dragons' she thought. Her mind was a mess of questions, yet her face remained stern and unimpressed. Jon stealing away the seven kingdoms could inspire fear but stealing away her children on brought upon anger. Jon in turn looked straight up at her, wondering the consequence of what he had just undertook in front of the Targaryen ruler. One thing became clearly evident to both of them.

Now was the time to talk.


	5. Chapter 5

Though Jon wasn't exactly what he considered to be the most tidy and neatly kept person, he had learnt enough in the Night's Watch to teach him the discipline of cleaning up after himself. As much as he had tried to stamp the mud and silt from his boots as he marched to the throne room, he was still finding a thin trail forming behind him. Somebody would have to clean that eventually. It was a rather unnecessary chore. Still, looking at Sam, his back and left hand side covered in the stuff, he knew it could have been much worse. Ironically, Sam wore an expression reminiscent of mud as he walked with his friend. It may have to cruel to some, but Jon found it rather amusing.

As the two approached the doors to the room, they found several guards waiting for them on arrival. A varied mixture of characters and cultures seemed to inhabit the Queen's guard. Where once there had been decorated knights in shining, black and red armour, these guards seemed to represent a different kind of warrior, one found far across the narrow sea in strange and distant lands, or at least that was how they seemed to most of the city. Jon knew that the Queen herself must have had enough respect and admiration for them to have them guard her presence personally. Still, he felt rather sceptical about such a force being present while he and Daenerys talked. Did she see him as a threat?

As he and Sam tried to enter through the large wooden doors, he found the guards would not budge. At their head was the sellsword he had seen present the day before on the Queen's council. He wore a rather smug look about himself as he blocked Jon's entrance. Jon didn't say a word, simply staring him down for a moment as he waited for the troop to disperse. As he found himself ready to speak, the sellsword beat him to the punch. "The Queen wants to see you alone. Not with your squire here" he spoke, commanding proceedings as he saw fit with an insulating manor. Jon turned back and looked at Sam, who in turn looked back at him surprised. "Go and get yourself cleaned up Sam. I'll be back soon" Jon told his friend, trying to assure him with a look of confidence. "But...but..." Sam stuttered.

"You heard him. Run along" the sellsword interrupted, giving the young maester a stern look of disapproval as he fiddled with the hilt of his foreign, curved sword. Sam backed down at this threat, giving one last look to his friend, his worried eyes speaking their own words.

'Be careful Jon'.

As his friend departed, Jon turned back towards the doors and tried his hand at entering. However, he was still being hindered by the cocky mercenary in front of him. Jon locked eyes with him as he began. "Am I forgetting something?" He asked sarcastically. The sellsword eyed him up for a moment before he responded, almost looking for a weakness he could exploit in open combat.

"So, you're the one who has caused such a great deal of fuss these past few days" the sellsword declared, his tone expressing a superiority complex in the heat of the moment. "Apologies, but I didn't realise I was holding council with a hired murderer" Jon mocked, drawing his attention further. "I prefer going by Daario Naharis, captain of Queen Daenerys' Second Sons" Daario addressed the insolent young Westerosi upstart. It did little to impress Jon. "So, you're a group of hired murderers then?" He teased once more. This broke through Daario's figurative armour of resolve and patience. He edged ever closer to Jon, trying ever further to vex and intimidate the supposedly heroic figure. "I may have come from nothing, Jon Snow, but I've made a pretty successful living for myself doing what I do. From what I understand, you came from _something_ here. Where are your rewards"?

Jon grasped the hilt of his sword as he answered, not taking his gaze from Daario for a second. "I've earned more in honour than you'll earn in gold in a lifetime" Jon answered defiantly. Daario only tutted at, what seemed to him, such a childish response. "No man fights for anything in this world, save himself and his own pride" Daario smirked. "Then you've never came across a real man have you?" Jon taunted. Daario had no words for the comeback. His smug grin faded vaguely into an unimpressed frown. Jon knew he had caught his bluff. "Besides, I believe the Queen is waiting patiently to judge me for what I am. Best not to keep her waiting". Daario began to back off, though his taunting grin returned again. "Maybe one day we'll see what your truly made of boy" he threatened emptily, still seemingly ready to pounce as he moved aside.

Jon didn't have time for the man and his ego. He had to focus on what the Queen was going to say to him. It was with this thought that a lot of his nerve and resolve left him. What was she going to say to him? Was this just her upholding her promise of a chance to talk? Was he to be scorned for daring to approach her Dragons? It was still an unpredictable call with a new figure on the throne. Whatever it was, he knew he would have to be on his guard. Though he had built up an unofficial title amongst the people of the North as 'protector of the realm', he knew it was Daenerys who held that title as Queen, as well as all of the cards in this scenario. He heard the great doors before him creak as the guards allowed him in. He slowly made his way into the Throne room, treading the same path that the Starks of old had walked as they too were stood before a ruler of the realm. He secretly prayed he wouldn't experience a similar fate to their own.

The great doors groaned again once more as he heard them close behind him. There was no turning back now. Looking around the room as he edged forward, he noted the grandeur and size of the place. The huge columns and large, colourful windows gave it an expansive and almost overwhelming presence that exceeded its actual size. Balconies overlooked the wings, providing a platform for the wealthy and important to overlook proceedings in the heart of King's Landing, all whilst being graced by the presence of their ruler. Below these, he found himself flanked by two still and silent rows of 'unsullied' guards, both aligned parallel to the other. Then of course was the crown jewel of the room that adorned its head; the Iron Throne itself. Menacing and inspiring in one glance. Upon it, sat Daenerys, patiently watching him approach with an engaging stare. Flanking her were her advisors, Tyrion Lannister sitting in the hands seat to her right with Varys, the master of whispers, seated next to him. He was unfamiliar with the rest of her company.

The young, foreign advisor he had seen at the council meeting stood front and centre as he approached the point where he felt he was deemed furthest to go. As he got to the foot of the stairs, the guards drew their shields forward, creating a formidable presence standing between their Queen and Jon. This kept him on edge as he peered up at the Throne before him and indeed, those who sat upon it. "Jon Snow, Lord Commander of the Night's Watch" Missandei began, performing her introductory duty. " _Ex_ Lord Commander actually" Jon intervened swiftly. Missandei faltered for a moment. She was not normally used to being cut off during her opening statement. Eventually, she continued after seeking approval from Daenerys in the form of a reassuring nod.

"You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the first of her name. Ruler of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. The unburnt. Breaker of chains, mother of Dragons and rightful Queen of the Seven kingdoms. Choose your words carefully". Jon turned his attention from her to Daenerys, who in turn was glancing straight back at him. The two children of the blood of the Dragon, the last of their kind, observed each other for a moment. Jon may have noticed her the other day but it was here, in this focused moment, that he got his first true impression of Daenerys forever stored away in his mind.

She seemed almost fit for the Throne she sat upon, a vision of power, beauty and order encapsulated in a single woman. Her unnerving state in such a moment told him of her ferocity and resolve. This was not someone who would easily be trifled with. Yet within her vibrant eyes, he saw the soul of someone who had experienced their fair share of torment and suffering in the world. He had witnessed the same reminiscent in both Ygritte and even his sister Sansa. Both of those women, of course, had been sharpened by their experience. This Targaryen Queen was no different. Based off of that metaphor, she was a figurative razor. Eventually, it was she who broke the silence between them.

"So, you're the one they are calling the protector of the realm?" She asked speculatively. "I've heard the same. It's still something I'm only just coming to terms with myself your grace" Jon replied lightheartedly, keeping his gaze ever present on her as she did him. "Modest. Still, we all know that title can only be held by the one who sits upon the Iron Throne" she acknowledged, asserting her position. Jon knew he could engage her in another back and forth like he had experienced countless times before. Right now however, he wanted answers. "Why have you summoned me here your grace?" He inquired, cutting straight to the chase.

"If I can remember correctly, it was you who wanted audience with our Queen not but yesterday Lord Snow" Tyrion input from his position to her side. Jon took an uneasy glance at him. Whilst he had seen humility in the Lannister outcast during his brief stay in the north a long time ago, he knew his family name alone could harbour dangerous intentions in a situation like this. Daenerys continued however before either of them could state another word. "Tell me Jon, had you ever seen a Dragon in the flesh before this morning?"

It gave Jon the conclusion he desired regarding his summon. This would be no friendly greeting. "No" was Jon's simple answer. In his current position, he wasn't in much of a place to argue with her. A wry grin came about her face at his submissive reply. "Not many men had once, long ago". She leaned forward in her seat slightly as she began to assert her point. "My Dragons have laid eyes upon many men now and many men have laid eyes upon my Dragons. For most of them, it was the last thing they ever saw". Whilst Jon stood firm in the face of her scouring, he held back a lump in his throat at the thought of the beasts tearing a man to shreds. Daenerys in the meantime, could see she had him right where she wanted him.

"Yet here you stand. Unburnt and untouched after facing one directly. How did you manage it? That is the question". Jon pondered on his answer for a second. He knew there was an abundance of ways he could have replied, yet his honourable nature brought him to an eventually simple but well worded conclusion. His deep, purple eyes stared directly into hers as he answered the question. "I think we both know the answer to that your grace" he replied. Daenerys could instantly pick up from his tone of voice and the way he looked at her at what he was hinting. She realised Sam had told him all he had told her too. It would have only been a matter of time, whatever the case. She kept decisive and in control however. This was a standoff of words.

"There can only be one true Dragon Jon Snow. Have you ever raised any of them yourself?" she challenged him, calling a rather obvious bluff. Jon began to sus out the corner she was trying to back him in to. He would not be swayed that easily. "I'm not trying to be a Dragon. I barely know of them and indeed, what I am in the first place" he responded. His defiance gave way to uncertainty in his speech though. The council picked up on this. Tyrion could sympathise with the boy from his seat next to the Throne. The two shared a similar uncertainty about their past, present and future, even if they did not know it. Daenerys however, was far less unwavered, keeping firm her position of power. "Then tell me, what gave you the urge to confront Viserion in the way you did this morning?" She asked, the bitterness picking up in her voice. Jon could tell what she was doing. She was shrewd, he'd give her that much. She knew how to play her part perfectly. Jon knew that he'd have to be the contradiction to this.

"Curiosity" was his answer. It was simple, truthful and would make her display her next intention far more quickly. Tyrion smirked at this from his seat. He could see the boldness and cunning in the boy. Daenerys of course, was far less impressed. "Curiosity is a dangerous thing Jon. Particularly when it comes to Dragons". A faint roar could be heard outside, getting progressively louder the closer it got. Even Daenerys' council and soldiers glanced about inquisitively at what exactly the Dragon's cry heralded. After a moment, their scrutiny was answered with a ferocious and heavy thump. The room shook at its foundations as the beast landed upon the flat roof above the Throne room. Daenerys, in the meantime, was unmoved.

"Tell me, would you be curious to know whether Drogon could tear through the roof of this palace and test whether you are truly of my blood in fire?" She taunted, her threat all too real to those present. Jon trembled as he looked to the roof with horror before looking back at her. She fed from his fear. "You'd tear the roof off your own throne room and kill me just to prove a point?!" He shouted back at her in disbelief. "Well, you were the curious one. I've seen him do similar" she began. Even Tyrion was shocked by her behaviour. She may have still been a blooming flower in her trade as a Queen but she was every bit a true Targaryen, just as those who had stood before her. She knew what to do with the power she commanded.

"My Queen, might I advise you that this is highly unnecessary" Tyrion intervened hurriedly, trying desperately to stop her doing something she'd regret. Daenerys looked to him and then back to Jon, still stood unmoved and with a mixture of fear and anger in his eyes. After a moment of deliberation, she made her choice. "I will take your advice Lord Tyrion. This is unnecessary" she stated. With her words, the clattering from the roof ceased and the sound of massive wings could be heard taking off. Jon heaved a mighty sigh of relief at the decision. Daenerys on the other hand, wasn't quite finished yet. "I have no doubt that your intentions to the realm are just Lord Snow" she stated, not breaking eye contact once. "I need warriors who are firmly committed to my cause however".

"My purpose in the Night's Watch was to guard the realms of men. If you are the Queen of that realm, then you already have my fealty" he declared to her, abrasive at his honour coming into question. Daenerys didn't buy it. "Oh I'm certain, but I'm told only death releases a man of the watch from his oath" she stated. Jon knew what she was hinting at. "I'm standing here, very much alive aren't I?" Jon questioned her. "Oh I can see that" Daenerys replied. "However, you abandoned the wall before it fell, therefore abandoning your brothers. That could be seen by the lawful as an act of desertion worthy of punishment, don't you agree"?

All eyes were on the Queen as she kept a foothold in the situation. Just the other day, they had established him as a leader in her army. Yet with one step of indecision on his behalf, the tables had indeed turned on Jon. Tyrion had no words for her this time. Whilst it wasn't in his own nature to have scorned the boy so, particularly given all he had done so far, he knew Daenerys would always think contradictingly. She still had retribution in mind against the families that deposed her own from the Iron Throne many years ago. Jon found himself with one half of the wrong family heritage as well as the right. He had been raised as a Stark and, despite their thin truce in the face of adversity, he would be treated as such in her eyes. "I did what was right to warn the realm" Jon informed her, his frustration beginning to show through his resolve.

"You did what was right to you in the moment" Daenerys snapped as she challenged him, delivering her own view. "Family, duty, honour; all powerful symbolisms that hold sway over the best of us, though they all make the simple mistake of contradicting one another". Jon had no answer to her criticism. Where she was feeding these accusations from, he didn't know. Yet she was insistent on demanding he admitted his faults. He could have easily backed away from this danger by admitting what she wanted to hear. Stubbornness kept his pride from submitting it seemed, as well as fear of where she could take this next. His best words right now were no words. Daenerys ironically took this as a sign of submission in itself. "You will guide the defence of this city for me, but first, you must truly prove to me your fielty. Kneel".

"What?" Jon gasped, amazed that he was really undertaking such a ridiculous request. "Your grace…" Tyrion began, expressing a similar amount disbelief. She would not heed his words this time. Her attention was still focused on the man before her. "Kneel. Prove your fealty to me right now". Her words were laced with venom and power as she demanded all she desired in the moment. Jon knew that his options were limited. There was little to no way he could refuse her. Giving in, he dropped to his knee and bowed his head in respect. Daenerys grinned at her victory. "There, that wasn't so hard was it" she mocked. This angered Tyrion in the meantime. He had not trained her to be like this. What had possessed the otherwise caring and patient woman to sway so far to the right for no reason was beyond his comprehension. The rest of the gathering remained silent as Jon rose once more. 

"Is that all your grace?" he asked disparagingly, bordering sarcasm. "I believe so for now. Take the time to think on how to better our next conversation" Daenerys advised him. Jon gave her one last look to the eyes. They still screamed anger and cruelty in the heat of the situation, far different to the timid and almost perturbed ones he first saw on the council. As he prepared to turn and depart with all haste, he noticed something. As he focused, he saw what he could only define as a 'dash of red' skim across her eyes. It was almost sinister in its presence. This again, left him with more questions. They would certainly have to wait now, particularly until she was in a better mood. He turned his back on her swiftly and made for the exit.

The council began to take his departure as a sign to call time on the session. Daenerys remained unmoved however, watching Jon every step of the way until he was clear of the doors. It was only hearing Tyrion that brought her back to reality. From the way he spoke, he was not impressed. "What in seven hells happened there?" He scorned her. "I did what was necessary" she replied bluntly, still unmoved in her current position. "The boy is a bloody hero to those Northerners and you treated him like a war criminal over one mildly distasteful act. This is not the way to go about these affairs Daenerys" Tyrion warned. This caught Daenerys' attention as she turned in her seat to face him.

"Victory does not always make you a conqueror Tyrion. I've experienced this too many times in Essos. Dissent against the crown _will_ be stamped out" she declared. Again, this answer was not a pleasing one to Tyrion's ears. In fact, it gave him a similar sense of anger and disappointment to those who he'd heard talk like this previously in his family. The thirst for power had led them down the path of recklessness and hate. It was part of the reason he had agreed to help Varys track her down in the first place. Despite his best teachings however, she still seemed to think no better than they did.

"You sound just like my sister did" Tyrion refuted as he turned his back on his Queen and made for the exit. It was these words, more than any other, that seemed to resonate most with Daenerys. Tyrion had told her of his sisters cruel mannerisms and how she exploited that cruelty to punish the weak and lesser. She knew she wasn't like that in any sense, yet here was one of her most trusted companions telling her otherwise. Her own half brother, even if he didn't fully know it. A flood of emotions poured into her mind. She wanted to curse him in anger at the distasteful way he had talked to his Queen. Yet she held it back in the face of the disappointment she felt for herself in this moment. Watching him walk out of the door, she collapsed back heavily into the Iron Throne, lost in deep thought as she stared at the floor.

The only two people who remained in the room now, aside from the unmoving guards, were her and Missandei. The former did not notice the later however, even as she began to raise her voice. "Is there anything I can do Khalessi?" She asked inquisitively. Whilst she knew little more about the Queen's plight than Tyrion did, she felt entitled to help her friend in what seemed to be a moment of need. Daenerys did not answer her however. She simply kept staring at the floor, scared to look up. In her head, she heard the sinister cackle of the Valyrian spectre calling out to her.

"Your most dangerous enemies can be your closest Daenerys" it warned her, the sinister words echoing through her mind once again. "Please" was all she could whimper as she begged it to stop. Missandei assumed it was an answer deemed for her, though she had her suspicions in the tonality of the Queen's voice. She sounded timid and scared, something that was very unlike the friend she knew and the Queen she had just witnessed. "Daenerys?" She inquired, now showing a more personal concern for her Queen. Daenerys didn't hear her however. She was still trapped in the confrontation with the unknown. Tears began to form in her eyes as the pain only increased in her head.

For a moment, she glanced up, trying to see through her hazy eyes. Instead of looking to Missandei however, who was now becoming ever more concerned, she looked forward over the Throne Room. Something blocked her view however. A spectre stood before her, draped in shadow and gazing straight back. She could scarcely make out what it represented. From what she could piece together, it took on a Human form, one that almost seemed vaguely familiar. Once more she heard the croaking, sinister voice. Only this time, it wasn't coming from inside her own head. It emerged from the ghost before her.

"They will try to stop you Daenerys. They all despise our family. They'd sooner see our blood run through the streets than ever make peace". Daenerys couldn't picture who would give her such a warning at first before her mind began to piece two and two together. It was someone who had never left the room, somebody these walls had seen fall. Her mind echoed the word before it could escape her lips. 'Father'. She couldn't bring herself to say it out loud however, still paralysed by fear and confusion. It spoke once more in her silence. "You may have been kissed by the flames, but no man can escape the cold embrace of a blade".

Suddenly, the room changed. Gone were the guards that flanked the perimeter for her protection. The day turned to evening as the low glow of flames flickered through the windows, creating monstrosities of shadow upon the wall. There was nobody to be seen, save for two men before her. One was panicking frantically as he sought to escape. The other was draped in a knights armour, holding his blade aloft. She could make out neither face as they both stood with their backs to her. From what she saw, the whole instance took place in a matter of seconds. The knight drew his blade forward and stabbed it straight through the other man's back. His blood curdling cry of pain was all she could hear as she screamed.

"No!"

Her scream echoed through the room. It was so filled with terror and fear that every guard in the room sprung into action at its cry. Missandei felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she was startled by such a sudden action. Almost paralysed by the moment, she could only watched as Daenerys seemed to leap forward, desperately trying to clutch nothingness. Her arms swiped clean through the figurative being and sent her hurtling toward the ground, where she landed with a hard thump. "Daenerys!" She called out as she sprinted to her downed friend. Picking her up quickly in her arms, she found Daenerys to be a sobbing mess, inconsolable as she screamed jiberish, thrashing around.

"Don't just stand there! Help your Queen" she shouted at the Unsullied. Several of them approached for support but in reality, there was little they could do. Nobody, including Missandei, quite knew what had just happened. "Please Daenerys, you're OK. I promise" she pleaded as she tried to comfort her friend. Daenerys was still wailing uncontrollably however. Quite what had caused her to turn into such a wreck in mere moments was beyond anyone's comprehension. She continued to speak nonsensical sentences as the entourage helped her to her feet. "I saw him die! Please don't let him die" she kept repeating as they escorted her away.

Covering her with a shawl, her guard hurried her away back to the safety of her quarters. All the time Missandei kept her close as she feared for her Khalessi's safety. Whatever had done this had certainly left its mark and could very well strike again at any unforeseen moment. What she couldn't comprehend however was that the damage had already been done. The stress and pressure already plaguing Daenerys' mind had only been intensified further by this haunting from an unknown source. Her sanity balanced on a knife edge.

Once they reached her room, Missandei commanded her to wait inside while she dismissed the guards. "Will you be alright Missandei?" One of the soldiers asked her in Valyrian. Missandei knew she couldn't answer that with any certainty. This was beyond her, yet she could only try. "Let me talk with her, help her calm down. She has been overwhelmed by all of this" Missandei replied to him in their mother tongue. Whilst she didn't quite know where to start, she would not give up until Daenerys was calmed down.

Entering the Queen's quarters and shutting the door behind her, she found that Daenerys had ceased her crying. She now stood silently by the entrance to the open balcony, her breath still rapid but significantly more relaxed than before. Missandei didn't quite know what to ask at first, despite being one of her most trusted advisors. All she could start with was the basics. "Are you ok Khalessi?" She questioned. Daenerys hesitated on answering her aides pleas for a moment. So much was swirling through her head that it was impossible to focus. Eventually, she took a deep breath and responded to the girls pleas. "I'm...fine Missandei" she stuttered out, still not being able to look at her directly.

Missandei knew she was lying. The question was whether she could challenge the Queen's word. She had seen how scorned she could get first hand not but a short time ago as she dismissed Jon Snow. Her concern for her friend got the better of her in the end and the words on her mind slipped off her tongue. "Your not. Please, let me help you" she pleaded. "Honestly Missandei, please. Let's just leave it" Daenerys stuttered in reply once more, trying to warn off the young woman. Missandei wouldn't take no for an answer right now however. "But Daenerys -" she began. The Targaryen cut her off though before she could go any further.

"Didn't you hear me the first time? I said leave it!" Daenerys shouted, turning with gusto to aim the words at her friend. It scared Missandei at first, the Queen's sudden change in mood catching her off guard once more. "Khalessi, I'm sorry. I...I meant no offence" she stuttered, unsure on how she had caused such a misdeed and wanting to take it back as soon as possible. Daenerys barely paid dividend to her however as she just began to float around the room with her back to the girl once more. "Get out" she ordered abruptly. Missandei was shocked by her dismissal, the fear of the woman she considered one of her closest now evident in her worried eyes. She hesitated on a reaction briefly before an answer slipped out.

"But Khalessi..."

"Didn't you hear me, I said get out!" Daenerys screamed. Picking up a small vase from the table she stood next to, she aimed it straight for her friend, only just missing with her toss as the small porcelain figure smashed against the far wall. This scared Missandei to no end, her instant retreat swift and in fear. She flung the door open and ran straight past the guards, tears in her eyes on account of the terrifying experience. In her hasty departure however, she ran straight into Greyworm, who had rushed to the aid of the Queen with Tyrion and Daario in close stead. She held him close as he encapsulated her in his arms in order to protect his love from the terror she had just been exposed to.

"Are you okay?" He asked her in his broken English. She just sobbed a reply into his shoulder in Valyrian. "What did she say?" Tyrion hastily asked, trying to get to the bottom of this mystery. "She said that Daenerys has gone crazy. That there is something wrong" Greyworm answered, still keeping Missandei close. Tyrion began to suspect the worst as he tried to come to a conclusion on what to do. Could Jaime really have been right with his warning? Even so, it still didn't make any sort of sense that such a transition would occur this quickly.

"I'm going in to check on her" Daario stated, ready to rush to his former lovers aid. "No!" Tyrion commanded swiftly. "Right now, there is nothing any of us can do. Let her calm down first before any of us make this worse than it already is". Daario very much wanted to ignore the little man and go bursting in to act the hero. A voice of sensibility spoke up in his mind however, telling him to follow the Lannister's advice. "Close the door. Nobody gets in or out without my say so" Tyrion barked at the soldiers. Whilst they couldn't answer him in the common tongue, they did as he said, pounding the hilt of their spears to the floor as they acknowledged his command.

"Tell them that nobody gets in or out without my say so. And tell them if a single word of this gets back to anyone then they'll be held accountable" Tyrion relayed to Missandei. She backed out of Greyworm's embrace, still visibly distressed but able to act on command. She repeated his words back to the two Unsullied in Valyrian. They once again bashed their weapons to the ground in acknowledgment. "Nobody speaks a word of this" Tyrion repeated in his command, now directing it toward his company. Daario and Missandei nodded in near unison. "What can we do though to help her Tyrion?" Greyworm asked with concern. Tyrion didn't exactly have a plan but he knew he had to take action.

"I'll try and speak to her later" he told them, making his plan known. "What can you say to her though?" Daario asked him. "That I'm still trying to figure out myself" Tyrion replied. He'd have to decide a plan of action overnight. For now, there were other matters to attend to. This had already thrown a rather hectic day into further chaos. Still, if his suspicions were correct, he couldn't help but worry for Daenerys. He knew there had been many instances whilst he governed that he wanted to lay into everybody in the room. He knew it would be different for her of course. Being a young and inexperienced ruler, she would feel every pound of the Kingdom she was now carrying.

In her room, Daenerys sat alone, still a bundle of nerves and savage emotion as she tried to contemplate what had happened to her. She felt instant regret for how she had treated Jon and Missandei. How she had become so provoked was a mystery. The only thing that was consistently repeating in her subconscious was the nightmarish vision she had witnessed in the Throne Room. Was it just a figment of her imagination or a warning from devils of what was to befall her? She tried to push it aside but the fear would not leave her. She may have been getting little sleep recently but she knew that tonight would be longer than any other before it.


	6. Chapter 6

The freezing night air whipped in off the Blackwater as Tyrion stood upon the cities eastern wall. Thankfully, his height in comparison to that of the ramparts themselves was actually giving him sufficient protection from the worst of it. Many of the soldiers who were assigned to the night guard had adopted a similar defence, huddling behind the walls security to shelter from the icy winds. It was tough for many who had never ventured north, the temperatures being unlike anything they had ever experienced before. For the warriors who had followed the Targaryen banner over the narrow sea, it was even worse. They shuddered in the chill, having to constantly relight their fires for some sort of warmth.

Despite the looming darkness over the city, Tyrion could still make out the faint ripples of the water crashing and splashing about in the bay. Some of the Targaryen ships they had acquired in Essos still lay dormant there. His mind cast him back to when he had stood here last, attempting to lead the desperate defence of a city against the fury of Stannis Baratheon's forces whilst their King cowered in fear. He remembered how the bay had been illuminated with Dragon Fire. It was the first time he'd seen its true effects take hold on men. The wails of pain and terror they cried were even harder to forget. Such was the horror of war. Still, he knew they'd have to employ similar tactics again, with actual Dragons in tow no doubt. At least those who would suffer its fate would already be dead or have a fetish for the flames. That was just one of an abundance of problems he faced right now, the days events giving him more cause for concern to add to the already mounting collection.

A familiar voice called out in the darkness, speaking his name. "You took your time" Tyrion told him, though hardly surprised by his actions. "Well somebody has to keep the whores company in this new age of noble-hood and togetherness" Bronn joked, clearly giving away his evenings activities without much bother or shame. Tyrion knew he should have expected little else. The man wasn't _that_ unpredictable. "I thought you turned over a new leaf. You had a betrothed last I heard?" Tyrion asked with curiosity. Bronn chuckled under his breath, the freezing air giving him away despite an effort to hide it.

"Let's just say a short trip to Dorne opened my eyes on that one" Bronn replied, recalling the seductive yet dangerous demeanors of the Sandsnake he'd met in the cells beneath Sunspear. "Well I can't fault you on that" Tyrion said, rolling his eyes at the predictableness of it all. "I could do with a good Dornish fuck myself, what with this war brewing". Bronn withdrew from his stare over the Blackwater as he caught Tyrion's intentions in his speech. "Look, whoever you need killed will have to wait until morning. I'm fucking exhausted" he sighed, the requests of Lords and Nobles having no room in his calendar before and appointment with slumber.

"I'm not asking you to kill anyone tonight" Tyrion replied. He wondered if he had become that predictable for a moment. Then again, Bronn wasn't exactly what you'd call your average knight. This did however, catch Bronn's attention. "So you're asking me to kill someone later?" He asked with scepticism. Tyrion put his hand to his forehead in disappointment and frustration. He didn't think his friend to be that gullible and forward thinking. Then again, he had most likely been drinking. "I'm not asking you to kill anyone...well, not yet at least" he confessed, turning to meet his companion. Bronn smirked in the meantime, knowing he could quite easily wind up the little man for entertainment. His mutual respect for Tyrion kept him from going quite that far however. "I'm asking you to lead" Tyrion concluded, even more serious in his tone.

"Unless you want me to lead some of these poor bastards from Essos to a barrel of ale, you're going to have to be a bit more specific than that" Bronn joked as he continued his tirade of cockiness. "A charming suggestion but not quite what I had in mind" Tyrion quipped. He gazed back out over the bay as he stated his intentions. "I need you to take a company of one hundred men to Casterly Rock". Bronn realised the seriousness of what the Lannister was entailing to him. "You want me to take a hundred soldiers from under the nose of a Targaryen?" he said in bewilderment. It took a lot to shock such an experienced sellsword but he knew, aside from the walkers to the North, going behind this Queen's back was one of the most dangerous undertakings in Westeros.

"I want to give Jaime support in the South. If that council of quarrelling idiots made one thing perfectly clear at the moment, its that there are many dangers to this realm at the moment, least not from the South" Tyrion updated him, bringing about his own fears in the process. "Despite my houses integrity, I highly doubt that even they will be safe from this menace, particularly with our forces severely weakened". "What about the other houses in the South? Surely they can band together" Bronn questioned. Tyrion sighed at the starkness of his own coming answer. "The houses in the South despise each other even more than the rest of the realm hates them" he tutted.

"That has always been one advantage the North had over us. They don't show stubbornness when it comes to fighting for a common cause. It was why the last Targaryen regime fell so quickly in the face of Robert's Rebellion".

"And this time?" Bronn asked, abruptly changing the topic.

"I doubt Daenerys would have sixty thousand Northerners camped outside the city walls in she didn't have at least some faith in this alliance" Tyrion remarked, almost stating the obvious. Of course, his mind was still embedded in the events of earlier in the day. "Though I must admit, she's making that very hard for everyone involved, herself included".

"So how do you suppose we get these hundred soldiers you're on about if most of the city is under her thumb?" Bronn asked, getting back to the request. "You've just answered that yourself" Tyrion quipped, beating back his ally in the game of wits. "Most of the city may back her cause, but not all. There are plenty of sellswords like yourself and soldiers that were contracted out to the rich and powerful in this city. They will not be so keen on backing the cause of a Targaryen ruler who limits their fortunes".

"And how are you going to convince the richest men in the city to give up their warriors to the Lannister's?" Bronn inquired. Tyrion again, had an answer prepared for his question. "Not me, Varys. My spymaster. In fact, he's already done it". Bronn was mildly surprised by the revelation. He knew Tyrion had influence, though it had certainly diminished after the scandal involving the Baratheon brats sudden death. "Secrets and gold I take it then?" Bronn huffed, aggrieved to admit Tyrion's tactics had come to fruition once more. Tyrion repeated his words back to him with far more enthusiasm.

"We kill two birds with one stone. We make sure Casterly Rock is protected to a satisfactory level and we remove any dissenters to the Queen out of the city in one move".

Bronn heeded Tyrion's words despite his initial wariness. Still, he had other questions on his mind too. "So, this Varys. He's the brains of your operation then? And I'm the brawn?" He asked in curiosity. "Well, I guess so, in a sense" Tyrion answered. "Though I'd like to think I'm sufficient enough in those two aspects myself". Bronn snickered at his sentiment as he voiced his opinion on such a bold statement. "See, that's what I like about you compared to other highborns; you're always up for a laugh no matter what".

Tyrion could appreciate the sentiment. He'd missed having someone like Bronn around during his stay in Essos. He'd initially not known whether they'd ever meet on good terms again after he rejected his request to fight on his behalf in a trial by combat. Time had healed those wounds however. In a world that had seemed far too serious and vengeful of late, Tyrion was glad there was still someone else who saw the lighter side of things. "I thought you got on well with my brother too?" Tyrion quizzed, curious to delve deeper into how Jaime and Bronn had became friends.

"I guess he's not a bad fella once you get to know him. We sparred a couple of times of course. He's not _quite_ the deviant with a sword he used to be" Bronn answered, recalling now he trained Jaimie to 'fight dirty' after he lost his right hand. "That's all the more reason for this plan to go forward then" Tyrion answered. He began to shiver somewhat in the cold as the night drew on. Still, he kept accomplishment in his heart knowing that his plan was going ahead. He wanted to return the favour to Jaime for saving his life. Hopefully, this intervention would save his.

A faint ray of heat from the early morning sunlight flowed over the hills as it touched upon the Lannister caravan. Jaimie had checked in on his children not long before they had set off on another day of travelling. He had made sure to move them back into the safety of the carriage so they could resume their sleep and conserve their strength. The journey had been tough on all involved, though it had gradually gotten easier the further south they had gotten, escaping the worst of the icy grasp of winter. Watching Tommen and Myrcella sleep so peacefully, he was thankful that they were in far safer hands now than they were back in King's Landing. It was one of the few things he could be certain on right now. He wasn't even sure of the sort of reception he'd get on his return to Casterly Rock. Would he return a hero or a failure?

As he trotted along upon his steed at the head of the procession, he began to remember familiar ground around him. He had trained in these rolling fields with his father. He had always been desperate to see Jaime succeed ever since he was a boy. The relentless combat training was one way of trying to strengthen him against adversity, along with constant lectures on family and pride. Still, he's treatment, though tough to endure, had been light compared to that his siblings had received. Cersei, despite all her intelligence, had been used as a Lannister gambling chip in order to secure a profitable alliance through her 'marriage'. Tyrion had barely even received notice from the elder generation aside from disgust and shame. He had to raise himself in a way.

Sometimes, all the three children had were each other, though Jaime had always felt the strain of being like a peacekeeping middle sibling, despite the fact he was actually the oldest. Cersei had always despised Tyrion for what had become of their mother after his birth. Tyrion, naturally, had to grow up in the shadow of that resentment and hate. It had moulded the two into perfect enemies, something that Jaime had always harboured a resentment for. He trusted Tyrion and knew that his mind would always be a great asset to House Lannister, when he chose to use it properly. Though he had loved Cersei in far more ways than just a mere sister.

They had shared the burden of each others pain, owing much of that in debt to their father's 'family pride'. The closer the two had gotten, the more boundaries and taboo they had broken down. There were a number of times, not long after her marriage to Robert Baratheon, that he had seen her for the scared young woman she had become. Despite all her intellect and cunning, she was ashamed of what she had been forced in to. Any dreams she had of being a true and powerful Queen were shattered as she took her place as a simple, trophy wife, next to a King who slowly drunk himself to death, the memory of his conquests disappearing like the wine from the cellars. It tore him up inside to see her suffering so as he lay everything on the line to keep their love alive, for her sake.

When they had both seen Joffery growing up, they had known instantly that he was Jaime's. She swore a vow to him from that day, to keep their children safe and to be his alone. It was something he'd swear back in return, suffering losing out on the titles to Casterly Rock and having to serve a lifetime in the Kingsguard in order to stay by her side. The God's fate would decree them to have two more children, both under the nose of the Kings family and both blonde of hair. From the shadows, he watched them grow up, secretly wishing he could mean more to them and be a part of their life. However, he couldn't have anticipated the result of years worth of secrecy and lies and what impact it would have on Cersei.

Whilst he could keep his distance from the proceedings of the King when the chances arose, Cersei was far deeper involved in watching the downward spiral of a new age. She would have to shoulder the blame with her King. She knew that her children would become part of this conundrum despite their having nothing to do with even the bloodline, let alone the affairs of a Baratheon rule. Plenty of times she had come to Jaime pleading that they run away with the children and make a new start of life elsewhere and plenty of times he'd have to reject her. It was a harder thing to endure the burden of sometimes than even his slaughter of the Mad King. They were far too deeply involved in the Kingdom's affairs and their father's plans to just run off like love struck children.

Then of course came Robert's 'untimely' death and Joffrey's ascent to the throne. It could well have been the fresh start they always desired, save for the meddling of a certain Stark. Ned had always looked down his nose at Jaime for his execution of Aerys Targaryen, despite the fact he knew nothing about the disastrous choice that was put before him at the time. Of course, things only took a turn for the worse at Joffrey's hand, his insanity for power mixing with whispers in his ear of his mother's darkest thoughts as he commanded the executioner to bring in a single swing that would inevitably thrust the Seven Kingdoms into chaos.

Most of the chaos Jaime would witness whilst in chains however following his capture by the army of a very aggrieved 'young wolf' during the war. He began to lose hope at that point, the days dragging on into weeks before his unexpected release and escort back to Kings Landing. It hasn't been simple and when he had arrived home, the war was all but over. The damage had inflicted far deeper and more permanent wounds on his family. Tyrion and Cersei were close to ripping each others heads off in their continuing dispute. Joffery had succumb to the madness of power, the folly of his youth being the only thing that set him aside from a rule far too similar to that of the Mad King. His father had tightened his grip further on the Kingdom, his ambition in the name of the bloodline only causing further chaos amongst his own family.

Then of course, was the change that took hold over Cersei. The crushing weight of their father's game-making, the death of Joffery and then of course, the death of their father at Tyrion's hand drove her over the edge, finding herself trusting less and less people with Jaime suffering the main brunt of that new found hate. He thought a mission to retrieve their daughter from Dorne would patch those wounds, though it's very near failure broke any remaining trust she had for him. She was a changed woman upon his return, one that saw little logic, particularly after her ordeal with the sparrows. She was consumed by hate and rage, seeing everyone who dared talk against her as a threat, whether they were family or otherwise. Her retribution had been swift and brutal, blending her affairs with the cities cruelest and most inhuman in order to satisfy her desires.

Were it not for the rather ironic Targaryen intervention, he dreaded to imagine what she could have done under the veil of a lost cause. Just picturing the thought of her with a blade to Myrcella's throat that day made him shudder to the very core. He could well have lost one of the most precious things in this world to him so easily. When her justice had come about, it took him time to feel remorse and sorrow. He had loved her like no other, yet she had broken not only his heart but their family too. He knew he would have to be strong for the children now, as well as his house.

Breaking from his sorrowful trail of thought, he began to hear muffled calls up ahead, figuratively if not already literally summoning him to the top of the caravan. Jaime willed his horse to go faster as they ascended toward the peak of a hill. The company seemed to slow to a halt as they were held in place by the scouts. It didn't seem to be danger or doubt that they upon their expressions however. When he began to see their faces, they had the glimmer of amazement in their eyes.

Reaching the peak, Jaime saw exactly what had stunned them so. Looking across the low, semi-frozen valley, he saw the town of Lannisport in the vale and its cliff range before them. Upon its tallest peak stood Casterly Rock, bathed by the rising western sun and standing tall as ever in its magnificence. It's brilliant peaks toward to the heavens as it sat upon its sheer rock base, its gaze overlooking the harbour and beyond, right out into the sunset sea. It too was enough to leave Jaime speechless, the sight of his true home he had been torn from plucking a special string in his heart upon his prolonged return. "We're home!" he heard one of the scouts usher in joy as they began to celebrate. "We're home" Jaime muttered to himself as he repeated the encouraging words. He ordered the procession into the valley and onwards to the stronghold, many who passed him by filled with the same expression of relief and happiness he held.

Jaime let them pass as he idly looked on with pride over the spectacle of his home. There had been times in the past few months where he'd felt like he'd never see it again. Winter may have indeed moved South, but still Casterly Rock remained, strong and immovable as ever. "I'll give you credit for once. It _is_ just as impressive as you made it out to be" he heard a woman speak beside him. Turning to meet the sombre voice, he found Brienne mounted upon her horse, she too with the same impressed glimmer in her pupils, along with a radiant smile on her face. He smiled at her acknowledgment, still glad she was in his company to witness such a sight with him.

"It feels like forever since I've been back" Jaime acknowledged as he recalled all his father had taught him about the place in his youth. He remembered the legends of how they had come to 'acquire' it from the Casterlys and how the rich gold mines beneath had given their cause wealth and prosperity for generations. "Well, forever will continue if you just sit there gawping like that all day" Brienne exclaimed, amused by the otherwise proud and stubborn man's child like wonder. "Come on, I'm sure you've told me it's plenty impressive on the inside too. Time to prove it". Jaime smiled at her playful banter as they both followed the caravan onwards toward the town below.

The once rich and fertile lands around Lannisport were now frozen at the surface by the drop in temperature, with only the most sturdy and resistant plants still blooming upon on the grasslands. The hub of activity around the port had begun to shrivel too with many choosing to seek warmth and shelter in their homes either here or slightly further south. It was a sorry sight for what was once such a proud element of the Westerlands. Even the Lannister lands couldn't escape the brunt of this winter. As they approached the castle however, the direness of their situation became all the more relevant.

Camped not far from the walls of the town were hundreds of small tents, pitched up shoddily and inhabited by refugees. "Who are they dad?" Tommen asked from the window of the carriage as much of the congregation caught the sight through their own eyes. Jaime could recognise the familiarity of the people and their descent as they too in turn stared right back at him. "They're from Dorne" he murmured cautiously in reply. Clearly they had fled the conflict in the South and were seeking refuge further North. Why they had sought out the Lannister lands however was a mystery considering the two Kingdoms recent bad blood. They fact they had not been executed yet was nothing short of a minor miracle.

As the questions began to build up inside Jamie's mind, he found himself cut short by the spectacle that was being caught underneath the shadows of the cliffs and the ramparts before him. They stood tall and true, a sure sign that he would be home soon. As he looked up however, he could see the walls lined with hundreds of guards in the bright morning sun, their eyes trained over the approach and indeed, the Dornish camp they had passed. Tensions were still clearly high between the two factions. Moving to the now halting tip of the caravan, Jaime looked on with the frontrunners as the Iron gates before them loomed, still shut.

There was a brief moment of hesitation which seemed, to the weary travellers at least, to last far longer than it should have. Jaime flirted with the idea that their failure had been considered so great in the eyes of House Lannister that they would be denied return in these uncertain times. He steeled himself further for confrontation. He had expected a frosty reception by the other wards of the riverlands, though nothing quite like this. His paranoia began to ease however as he heard the groan in the fixtures before him leading to the gate giving way to allow them access.

The vibrant streets of Lannisport remained untouched, gleaming under the rays of the winter sunshine. Things were still more quiet than he'd like to expect, though he had to remind himself that it was still early in the morning. A line of Lannister soldiers flanked the caravan on either side as the procession moved into the city, the scattered citizens being held back upon realising their brethren in King's Landing had survived. It was a professional welcome though still not a warm one. There were no cheers, no applause. Just questions. One of the captains waited to greet Jaime and his entourage as the caravan began to disperse.

"Lord Jaime, it's good to see you alive and well your grace" the captain greeted him, extending a hand to shake that of the prince. Jaime had to politely make him change over, the original intent having gone to his false hand. The captain hesitantly obliged, slightly embarrassed to commit such a faux-pas in front of the heir to the Lannister throne. As the mood began to settle, Brienne noticed guards checking the underside of the carriage that had housed Jaime's children. "What are they doing?" She suddenly asked, drawing Jaime and the captain's attention to the sight too. "Not to worry my lady, they are merely checking for any Dornish migrants that may have hidden themselves under the coach" the captain replied, almost hesitant in explaining such a strange practice to his superiors.

It did indeed perk Jaime's curiosity. "You think they've hidden themselves under the carriage?" He asked in surprise. "We've seen them attempt it multiple times, trying to sneak into the city in order to hide out here. Regular checks have been implemented by your uncle's command" the captain answered professionally. "My uncle?" Jaime echoed. "Yes your grace, he's taken governance of Casterly Rock in your absence. In fact, he has requested to speak with you upon your arrival in the castle".

Jaime didn't need to hear those words repeated to him. The request was clear, though it's reasoning remained constantly uncertain. He would have thought such a family man so like his late father would have been here to greet them at the gates. Instead, they were the ones required to go to him. Was his frittering really that logical? Had they returned failures?

He kept his company close as they proceeded with the guards toward the castle overlooking the sea. "This seems like a pretty tense homecoming" Brienne spoke reticently to him as they marched. "Something isn't right in all this. Stay close to my children when we get inside" Jaime replied. She nodded at his command, keeping her hand close to the hilt of her sword and one eye on his children as they climbed the cliffs pathways towards the main fortress. It was magnanimous in stature compared to the rest of Lannisport below, the beacon of all the Westerlands. Every Lannister throughout history would tell you that it rivaled even Kings Landing in stature and beauty. Jaime only hoped that it would not take its now infamous reputation for murder and betrayal too.

The natural walls of the rock provided safety and comfort amongst the caverns for those who inhabited it. It still looked magnificent as they were led toward the Hall of Heroes. For Brienne, the castle was unlike anything she had ever gazed upon, its rich heritage and wonder a far cry from the bleak and barren war torn lands she had graced with Podrick in the north. Even Tommen and Myrcella were amazed as they glanced at the beautiful layout they transversed, the warm morning sunlight illuminating it in a magnificent glow. Whilst Jamie could have caught himself up in the wonder of it all, he had far more pressing matters on his mind, in particular facing his uncle and the other lords of Casterly Rock. Whilst he may have been the ruler here by right, he knew from experience that power could shift all so easily in the face of adversity. Had he really wandered into a situation his father had warned him about in his youth?

Coming to the throne room, the doors gave way to reveal the elegant room to all involved. The floors were made of the finest marble, sparkling in the morning light, beautiful patterns engraved on their surface. The walls were lined with exquisite paintings of Lannister heroes, one of the largest catching Brienne's eye. It was that of the current Lannister clan before the war had befallen them. Tywin sat in its centre upon a golden throne, his children standing proudly by his side, all involved seeming almost quite intimidating to an outsider. Even Jaime, in his coat of Lannister armour, seemed like someone not to be trifled with. Such was the man he was before all that had become them both.

At the head of the room was the golden throne, its steps laced by elegant red velvet and surrounded by several other seats. A great ruby stained glass window stood behind it, overlooking the shimmering sea. It had an image of Lann The Clever engraved into it, overlooking the room with cunning eyes illuminated by the natural light. Upon the throne sat Jaime's uncle, Kevan Lannister, whilst the other representatives of Casterly Rock and Lannisport flanked him. Jamie had seen this situation many times before, being used to the air of intimidation. However, he was normally not the one in the firing line. Indeed, why he and his children found themselves in it was quite the mystery.

The ever so familiar awkward silence that came with these events fell upon the room as the two Lannister lords of different generations looked upon one another. Kevan showed no signs of giving away his true intentions. Jaime ironically mirrored this, trying to draw his uncle into this battle of wits. He now almost regretted not persuading Tyrion to come home with him now as he would have been perfect for this kind of standoff. Eventually, it was Kevan, in his position of governance power, that engaged first. "Jaime, I'm glad to see you've returned alive and well" he spoke, addressing his nephew. "It's good to see you too uncle" Jaime replied tentatively, not taking any courtesy seriously at this point.

"Not to sound rude, but you're sitting in my father's chair" Jaime pointed out, questioning his uncle's sudden grasp for power. Kevan grinned at Jaime's curiosity, having at least some assurance his nephews intentions for the Lannister legacy were in check. Still, he had questions of his own before he was willing to surrender it quite yet. "I am indeed. Don't fret my boy, I've simply been keeping it warm for the true heir to return" he humoured Jaime, patting the arm of the throne as he acknowledged this. His expression changed almost instantly however as he resumed a non-joking tonality.

"You're father, my brother, is departed however it seems. As cruel as it may seem, he never left a worthy name for his heir. At least not in my presence. I only wonder what he would have made of recent events concerning our place in the realm". Jaime could see the direction this power play was beginning to take. His uncle would indeed want answers about what happened in King's Landing. He looked to Brienne and his children briefly. They had the same look of uncertainty and warning in their eyes as he had on his mind. "Well as the eldest Lannister son and the one that my father mentioned again and again for years, I think that answer is a rather simple one" Jaime declared, looking straight at his uncle as he spoke. Jaime's arrogance would not sway Kevan that easily however.

"That's all well and good to claim Jaime, but the Lannister heir, at least in my own view, would not barter and ally with the Targaryen invaders that just humiliated their family and butchered their own. Wouldn't you agree?"

Kevans words caused whispers amongst the other knights of the Westerlands in his council. It was a dangerous claim to make against Tywin's son but one that did indeed need an answer. Jaime was rather taken back by the claim. This was indeed more serious than he first anticipated. He would defend his family's choice in the decision though the truth would be hard to avoid. "I think you fail to understand there was little we could do" Jaime begun, defying his Uncle Kevan best he could. "It was either yield or die in Dragon Fire". "Perhaps if you had, it could have given us incentive to actually stand against this Targaryen girl" was Kevans almost instant reply.

This angered Jaime, his tongue paralysed in order to stop a barrage of insults and curses being aimed at his uncle. Brienne too was shocked by the cruelty Jaime's own family seemed to be displaying toward their son. Kevan seized the opportunity to round his point in the uncertainty. "Tell us now Jaime, why we should rally behind such a Lord of Casterly Rock while he bends the knee to our enemy?"

Jaime knew that Kevan had him right where he wanted. It was difficult to escape the otherwise obvious truth of the situation. He knew his uncle would twist such events in his favour however, giving him the chance to be considered a powerful Lord of influence in this new age. Whilst he wasn't cavalier enough to simply seize the Lannister title for his own right here and now, he could slowly test Jaime in front of the other lords that wardened their lands. His reply would be critical to his success in their eyes.

It was one of Jaime's children who came to his aid before he could defend himself however. "Thats not fair!" Tommen began, summoning courage to protect his fathers name. "My father has done nothing but keep the Lannister name alive and you'd seen him questioned for it? Whatever happened to family before honour?"

"Noble, but you are not king anymore now boy" Kevan reminded him. Tommen backed down slightly, the embarrassment of such truth still fresh in his memory. One of the others lords spoke up suddenly however. "Apologies young lord, but is Jaime not your uncle?" he asked, feigning ignorance. "No, he is our father. No matter what is said, he has always been more a father to us than that fat oaf Baratheon my mother suffered" Myrcella intervened. This begun to cause whispers amongst the lords though Kevan could only roll his eyes at their debate of the Westerlands worst kept secret. "Spare us the dramatics, we all know it's the worst kept fucking secret in these lands" Kevan scorned them. The lords quickly quietened at this. Jaime sought to defend his children however, unhappy about their disgraceful treatment thus far.

"I bent the knee, uncle, to save our family from destruction. To give us something to build upon in this new world" Jaime spoke as his voice seethed with contempt for his uncle's treatment of he and his children. "New world? You're even beginning to sound like them" Kevan noted as he failed to register the threat. "We still have the power and influence we have always held. The north has been decimated by Gods only knows what. No force in the South can challenge us now" he waffled on.

"You might be a knight of worthy mention Uncle, but to ride our forces unprepared into an army of trained Essossi warriors and sixty thousand northmen would be a tactic worthy of only a fool" Jaime replied, scathing his uncle. This brought about whispers of contempt from the other lords and left Kevan with a sour look on his face. "Our position is weakened, Jaimie, by your inability to hold sway on the Iron Throne. Your sister will shoulder the blame on that one too".

"I will avenge my sister" Jaime stated defiantly. "And I will avenge this house. Now is not the time to do so however".

"What is this great plan you propose for our house then?" Kevan questioned, leaning forward in the throne as to directly address his nephew. Indeed, the other lords around him did the same. Jaime took a moment to look upon the withered old fools as he conducted his speech. They may have been family but their stubborn and narrow minded nature was a task fit only for the most strong willed of men to endure. He would not be put off that easily however. His reputation would not be put to the test by their moronic questioning.

"We bide our time. Conserve our strength. Defend our people" Jaime begun. "So you propose we sit here and do nothing?" Kevan questioned, clearly trying to grasp the wrong end of the stick. "No. We let the Targaryen's host wear themselves down, become embroiled in these petty affairs with the north. Let them decay and worry about their own dead for now. We can monitor the situation internally and strike when the time is right". He was interrupted in his speech and pacing however by another of the knights in the council. "How do you propose we spy on them?" he asked Jamie. "We have my brother advising the Queen personally. He can twist her inexperienced ear away from developments here".

The lords let out their own individual displeasure at the statement. Clearly their contempt for Tyrion was still strong. "You'd have us rely on the little monster who murdered your own father?" Kevan exclaimed, angered by such a revelation. "No uncle" Jaime interrupted bluntly. "You will trust me direction as Lord of this house. I will be the one trusting Tyrion. Despite your judgement, he is the most valuable asset this house has right now and I will make sure he is seen as such in our plans". Brienne watched on as Jaime continued his powerful, passionate pledge to the lords. She had seen his demeanor of strength shine through before but she had never seen his facade shifting so powerfully. It was a sight to behold in many aspects.

"This house will not falter any longer. We have suffered setback, that much is obvious. We will not yield to the demands of this Targaryen girl and her puppet alliances forever. We are Lannisters of Casterly Rock and the Seven Kingdoms will do well to remember the Lion's bite as well as his roar". Jaime's concluding statement left the room in silence as the council united behind his words. Kevan had a confident smile now etched upon his lips. Truly the boy was far more up for the task than he had expected. Dismissing the council, the pair reconciled briefly before Jaime led his children away. He would keep a close on proceedings within his extended family from now on. This arrogance wouldnt go unhindered.

The day passed on with little more event. Jaime had retired himself to his bedsit for a while, recomposing himself and shedding his armour before he decided to take a walk around the rock. Feeling calmer and more relaxed, he strolled through the winding caverns and elegant gardens, recalling memories of his youth and he took in the pleasurable sights. Whilst he and Cersei had become used to the game played in King's Landing, the sights he took as he wandered would always represent home to him. It culminated in looking out from the Lion's mouth over the low sunset on the sea. Plenty of ships still moved Lannister gold back and forth from the caverns below. Their debts would be forever payed, no matter what the outcome of this war would be. His recollection was cut short however as he found Brienne approaching.

She too had abandoned her armour for more casual clothing, her brown leather shirt leading down towards a flowing blue skirt. It was almost unfamiliar for Jaime to see her like this. She had a beauty about her that no other woman he'd come across presented. She mirrored him in many respects, proud and devoted whilst remaining strong and independent. He was again thankful that she had even agreed to accompany him after all he had put her through. Her loyalty was now unwavering, that much was certain. "Does your family ever have a relaxed moment?" she joked as she took her place beside him overlooking the mouth of the cavern. "I would have thought you had been used to that by now" he replied sarcastically, grinning at her humour.

Silence took hold once more as the two companions gazed over the sunset, heralding the days end through the Lion's mouth. "Did you really mean all that you said? About swearing revenge on the Targaryens?" Brienne questioned him, now with a hint more concern in her voice. Jaime stalled on an answer briefly. He had said what he claimed in anger and bitterness. To go through with such an idea would be near unthinkable at this present moment. He also wouldn't risk the safety of his brother in the pursuit of glory. He also knew however, that he would be outcast as a failure to the family if he went back on his word.

"I'm not certain of much at this stage" he began, an expression of doubt mirroring his words. Brienne could see his discomfort. "All I know is that retribution must be met for what befell my sister. I won't let them insult my family like this, particularly while they hold my brother captive". She could see how his anger was clouding his judgement and decided to intervene. "Your brother is doing this of his own free will. He is clever enough to keep himself out of danger" she began, helping Jaime to see clarity. "Right now, your children will need you to be strong for them". Jaime nodded in agreement, though doubt still remained present in his mind.

"You really did love her didn't you?" Brienne asked, delving into his troubled mind. "She was my sister" Jaime replied bluntly. "You know what I mean Jaime" she replied, not being fooled that easily. She knew that he was trying to subdue his true feelings again. "I did" he began. "But I saw what she became. What she tried to accomplish. I couldn't love that". Brienne kept her eyes fixed on him as he nervously looked away.

"Don't let the past keep you chained down. You taught me that much when reconsidering my vows" she told him, stressing reason to his doubt. He turned back to face her, far calmer gazing at her presence. "I'm just glad to have my children safe. And you by my side". Jaime brought his good hand to her face, cusping her cheek as her expression softened. They gazed into each others eyes for what seemed like an eternity, barely breathing, let alone speaking. Her heart raced as the noble man she once despised for his arrogance kept her close.

"Brienne of Taarth..." He began, their proximity egding ever closer. She wouldn't let him finish however. He had already said enough on such a day. Cutting him off swiftly, she planted her lips upon his. He didn't withdraw, kissing her back as the two warriors gave in to their hearts desire. The waves crashing against the rocks below was the only sound they heard as they savoured such a rare moment of peace, together through whatever Westeros would throw at them next.


	7. Chapter 7

/* _Authors note*_ _  
_ _Hi fiction readers. First off, I'd like to say thank you for all the positive feedback I have received on the story so far. It's great to know so many of you are interested in seeing how it plays out and it reall gives me the incentive to keep on writing.  
The reason behind this message is just to inform you that this coming week, there will be no new upload. I'm headed out to Corfu and my wifi will be very limited, so the good likely-hood is a new chapter around the 28th of August. I will still be writing while abroad, so I may even have a double chapter special for you upon return!_

 _Thanks again! /  
_

A low moon hung full in the evening sky over Highgarden, illuminating the vibrant and active city below as it bathed in its fluorescence. Despite the uncertainty brewing just south of their lands, the Tyrell city of eternal valour was still a beacon of their symbolism to grow, even during the coldest winters. Winter was indeed hitting hard however, even in the most Southern regions of the Reach. The rain had only just ceased for the first time in days, the condensation rising steadily from the woods surrounding the castle and blanketing them in a thick mist.

Margaery looked on from the highest reaches of the platforms surrounding the palace within the centre of the city. She had not been the same since her experience in King's Landing, only just escaping the same fate as her brother at the hands of the Sparrows and Cersei's unmerciful justice. Only pleading uncertainty had saved her life, her grandmother whisking her away swiftly after the sorrowful events that followed suit. He had been unmercifully cut down purely for the crime of loving someone unjust in their eyes. It was something she wouldn't forget any time soon, the sight of his execution ever present in the rolling clouds of steam protruding from the woods.

Glancing down momentarily, she saw the golden roses laid neatly in the flower beds around abundant in their gardens. Their beauty was an impressive sight to all who beheld them, either from home or from lands leagues away. An admirer had once compared her to one of the flowers, their striking beauty and uniqueness being the point he raised. Thinking back, she often wished she'd taken the young man's words more kindly. It was around that time that she truly realised her ambition, queenly dreams dominating her thoughts. Maybe following a path more reasonable and realistic would have saved her the torment to follow.

Three husbands later and she began to realise the folly of her ways, being right back where she begun. To compare her to a rose now would be one wilting away, hidden underneath the shadow of the garden beneath its counterparts, not able to fully bloom as it had first expected. Despite her family's encouragement, she preferred to keep herself out of the public eye for now, the shame and embarrassment of what befell her too much to deal with sometimes. She would often field these lonely night visuals, wrapped tightly in a concealed shawl, staring endlessly over the forests below and outward over the mountains as she remained lost in thought.

However, on this night, it seemed she had a visitor. "I think anyone in the Seven Kingdoms would be hard pressed to deny we have a better view here than in those bloody gardens of Kings Landing" Olenna noted, her sarcasm an attempt to cheer her granddaughter up. It brought about a weak smile, though would it take far more than that to reroute the spirits of the disengaged young soul. Olenna was a mix of empathy and sass in her following statement. "You can't keep yourself confined up here forever. You need to be amongst your people again" she pleaded to Margaery. "I was amongst my people, for a time" Margaery began, her voice timid and lost as though she were in a trance. "I just wanted to be a Queen the people loved. They did love me, temporarily. Then, suddenly, it felt like nobody loved me at all".

"Don't be so sentimental girl. Thats not what you've been taught" Olenna reminded her sternly. "You'll always have my backing, as well as your fathers and every loyal banner in the reach. You didn't lose your grip on the Iron Throne because of the people. It was all the fault of the cursed Lannisters. Wardens of the South indeed". Margaery once again remained silent, trying to process Olenna's words in the haze of doubt and uncertainty that laid dormant on her mind. "At least come indoors and have some rose tea. It's freezing out here".

Margaery couldn't deny common sense. It was indeed getting colder by the minute as the sun's light disappeared indefinitely over the horizon until another morning awakened. Plus, she could see her grandmother was at least trying to help her feel better, even if in her own unique way. Turning to walk back into the palace, the pair took one last look over the glittering city below them. As Margaery turned away however, Olenna called her back upon noticing something new. "Well, at least the soldiers have thought of a way to keep themselves warm" Olenna chuckled as she overlooked the spectacle before her.

Glancing down, Margaery saw a rather large flame whipping up upon the eastern wall below. It was luminous and tall in its stature, its golden hue illuminating even across the darkening skyline. Something seemed off about it however, almost suspicious. It kept growing larger, almost beyond control, with no end to its expansion in sight. Even Olenna began to realise something was wrong as the flames whipped higher into the air. Their eyes widened as they began to hear the cries of terror echoing over the otherwise bustling city. Something was indeed out of the ordinary.

Looking along the walls perimeter, the pair began to notice more flames springing up from their castletop visual. This was no mere accident. Highgarden was under attack. The bells began to toll across the city, warning its populace of the impending danger threatening them. The screams became ever more apparent and vocal across the capital of the Reach as they sound of swords clanging and clattering entered the composition. It was Olenna who was the first to broke away from her entranced state of fear. "Into the palace, we have to find safety" she ushered to Margaery as the two royals sought shelter as quickly as they could. Margaery tried to block out the sounds of suffering in her ears as she ran, the noise all too reminiscent of that she heard locked in the dungeons of the Sept whilst imprisoned by the Sparrows. She fought back as much fear as she could however as she helped her grandmother flee into the main castle.

Upon returning, they could hear the place was in just as much of a state of panic and chaos as the rest of the city. Calls echoed around the lavish halls as shadows danced upon the walls whilst the candlelight flickered.

"They've taken the Sept!"

"They're butchering all the priests!"

Then came a more chilling sound, as more blood curdling screams began to resonate from within the castle and what could only be described as 'small rumbles' pulsed through the floor as bodies fell. Silence reigned suddenly as Olenna and her granddaughter stood paralysed together in fear. "We have to keep moving, come on" Olenna noted as she prepared to run forward into what she believed to be the safety of the inner palace. Margaery remained fixed in her position, watching her grandmother walk right into the trap.

As Olenna turned around to look at Margaery once more, her subsequent words were cut off by the fear and terror in her granddaughters face. She shook in fear of something that Olenna could not quite see. It came to the obvious conclusion that whatever it was lingered behind her. Before she could react quickly enough however, she felt a sharp, searing pain shoot straight through her, one of her lungs caving in as the sharp dagger pushed through and out of the front of her chest.

Margaery, still perplexed in fear, could only look on and scream in horror as she saw the dark, shadowy figure slice into her grandmother. She watched as the fluent stream of blood poured out of her chest, splattering to the floor beneath. Her eyes went pale and before too long, she fell to the floor with a thud, devoid of life as the result of such an unmerciful murder.

Jon hadn't budged much from his window side vidual, save for getting some minimal sleep during the night, since he had returned from the Throne Room yesterday morning. At first, he felt anger towards Daenerys, her jealous and spiteful nature making her no better in his eyes than those who had led the realm into decay from the Iron Throne before her. There was a temptation within him there and then to play upon her foolish accusations and rally the northerners in revolt against this mock Queen. With such a mentality for arrogance, how could she be trusted leading the city against the impending wrath of winter?

However, something had kept him from acting on those thoughts. There had been a nagging voice in the back of his subconscious that had kept his animosity in check. She was one of his blood relatives and possibly one of the only links he would ever truly have to his real father's side of the family. He had bickered with family before, though not quite on a scale where they had threatened him with being burnt alive or eaten. It was a situation that had left him perplexed and thrown off balance, even after he had vented his frustration to Sam. His friend had been another factor in keeping him focused of course, his more pacifist nature pleading for reason to Jon's angered thoughts.

A night of indecisive reflection and freezing winter conditions had kept Jon wide awake in the dark before his body could hold out no longer from exhaustion. He had awoken slightly later as a result to find Arya waiting for him, concern in her eyes as rumours of events in the Throne Room had reached her ears. Jon had tried to usher her away at first, not wanting the young Stark being caught up in a seemingly more obvious family dispute. Arya would not budge however, insistent on finding a way to help. With some gentle badgering, Jon eventually opened up to her about the previous days events and the threats Daenerys had put to him.

As she listened to his story, such behaviour on behalf of the Queen seemed to take her by surprise. She recalled to Jon about how she had been one of the most regular visitors to his bedside during his recovery, as well as the words the Silver Queen had confessed to her about her vision for the realm during their last encounter. Jon wanted to call a bluff on Arya's sympathetic revelation, the memory of the Targaryen's scorned expression far more present behind his eyes than one of peace and mercy. Still, the look on Arya's face as she spoke to him told a story all of its own. She was telling the truth. This put him right back to square one, with far more questions than answers.

"Maybe she's afraid" Arya had told him, guessing with the best assumption she could muster as she and Jon tried to solve such a mystery. Jon had questioned such a bizarre thought. What did she, as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Mother of Dragons have to be scared of? What had he quite done to make her afraid of him in any sense? Of course, Arya's answer put pay to those thoughts, the conclusion seemingly quite obvious, even from such a young mind.

"Aerys was probably scared in his last days. She told me she's tried to distance herself from his image though, but she's fought for years to come home. She treats her Dragons like her children. Maybe she sees how you'd be a more obvious fit to the throne than her. Maybe she thinks you'll take her children from her".

Interacting with Viserion as he had done yesterday morning was most certainly the catalyst for all this. He realised now that his curiosity had been rash in her eyes. Nobody else had been able to tame or even show any sign of interaction with such unruly creatures for hundreds of years. As what she had suspected to be the last remaining descendant of Dragons blood, she felt connected to them with a motherly bond. For all their time in the world, she had been the only one who could understand them. That was until Jon had stepped seemingly out of the shadows and tempted her Dragons with another choice, something they had not been presented before in an otherwise black and white existence.

He knew he would have felt similar if someone had tried to take Ghost from him. The direwolf was only what he considered a companion however. Daenerys considered her Dragons to be her legitimate children, hence one of the various titles she had been bestowed. Jon could have imagined how Ned Stark would have reacted having his children snatched from him and the lengths he'd go too to protect them. He still had to force himself to remember that Ned wasn't his real father. That had all been a ruse. Still, he had raised Jon better than any legitimate father could have ever done. So that would remain in Jons mind forever. Still, he knew now another challenge faced him in that sense.

As he sat by his window side, polishing Longclaw as he processed such theories in his head, he was drawn away by a knock upon his door. He was in no fit state mentally to entertain any guests right now. The presence was consistent however, not taking no for an answer. Eventually, Jon propped his sword to one side and answered. Waiting at the door was a presence he had not expected, least he thought would have given him time of day over the ever demanding rule of a city.

"Ah, I was beginning to think I'd missed you" Tyrion noted, pleased that Jon was actually around. "No, I was just...thinking" Jon replied, slowly but hesitantly. "It can often be a blessing to take in a private moment of thought" Tyrion preached, trying to play a hand of sympathy to the otherwise confused young man. Jon however, wasn't going to be outed that easily by his mind games. "What are you doing here?" He put bluntly to the Lannister prince. Tyrion could see the boy was no fool, despite what others may have thought. Though he did have the defensive outlook of a Stark towards those he was cautious around.

"We need to talk about yesterday" Tyrion put bluntly to him. "I'm not in the mood" Jon instantly replied, wanting to slam the door square in the Lannister's face. Tyrion spoke before he could play on such desires however. "Don't be a fool Jon" he told the young commander. "We both know there are questions that need answering regarding these events". Jon tutted in disbelief at Tyrion's proposal. "So you've come here to give me the answers you think will make this right?" Jon questioned, unimpressed by his assumptions.

"You're not the only one with questions about our Queen. I haven't spoken to her since I lectured her on her treatment of you yesterday" Tyrion put to him bluntly. This did manage to stop Jon from turning his back on the Queen's hand. "I think that we should work to find some answers together". He had captured Jon's curiosity previously, though he now had his attention as he predicted the next move. "I'm listening" he told Tyrion, a hint of scepticism about his tone. "May I come in?" Tyrion asked, thinking it rather foolish to stand at a doorway talking about the well being of the Queen in her Kingdom in front of every prying eye there could possibly be. Even in this new age, Varys wasn't the only one with spies. Jon eventually loosened his grip on the door, allowing Tyrion entrance.

Once inside, Tyrion pulled up a chair and observed his surroundings as Jon sat himself on the corner of the bed. "Do you have any wine?" Tyrion asked as he continued to scan the room for some sort of beverage. "No" was Jon's blunt reply. Tyrion's expression curdled at the answer. "Shame. It's normally good for a situation like this" he noted as he tried to relax against the back of the chair. It would have left Jon mildly amused had he not have been on edge about the Lannister's intentions. Here it was, barely midday and he was ready to crack open his first bottle.

The two remained silent for a moment, Jon staring down the member of his Northern family's long standing enemy with intensity and caution. Tyrion just wrinkled his face somewhat, trying to keep a stern facade, though lapsing somewhat under the thought of no wine. Eventually, it was the later that broke the deadlock. "What happened yesterday was not supposed to occur the way it did" he began to lecture Jon. This only brought a role of his purple eyes however as he replied with a snigger , the attempted olive branch hardly a serious option to him right now.

"So that's why you've been sent here. To barter me into submission and change my opinion?" Jon tutted, not impressed by what seemed like another piece of Lannister deception. Tyrion held his face upon his fingers to deal with the stress of such neglect. He'd thought the boy would be more clever that to just dismiss him as a horrid apparition of a man with horrid words. Clearly, his anger and pride was getting the better of him at the moment. "Don't act the fool, it won't sway me that easily" Tyrion told him with a serious tone. "Well what do you expect me to believe after being humiliated by you both whilst you mocked me on that Throne?" Jon asked. Even he backtracked in his mind slightly as Tyrion just echoed his previous sentiment in his facial expression. Maybe that was slightly overdramatic.

"You seem to forget who you are Jon" Tyrion advised him as he twiddled with fidgety hands, relaxed in his chair. "I barely know what I am anymore" Jon murmured, indecisiveness rife in his words. The constant questions circulating in his head came to focus once again as he looked away from Tyrion briefly towards a reflection. He saw the violet glow resonating in his eyes, an otherwise foreign obscenity to him in his previous life, now a part of his every waking morning. Tyrion brought him back to reality.

"And you think you're the only one?" Tyrion questioned. He almost instantly regretted saying what he did, Jon's attention focused on him again. He was almost ready to tell Jon what Cersei had told him and what neither he or Daenerys would have speculated in their wildest dreams. Now didn't seem the right time though. It would be best after he spoke with Daenerys face to face on this matter. "What do you mean?" Jon asked, now curious. Tyrion quickly concocted an answer, one that wasn't derived entirely of truth but was also one he wasn't entirely certain upon either.

"Daenerys is just as confused as you. For days after she rescued you, she had no idea what you were, despite your ...cousin's information" Tyrion told him, having to correct himself in remembering that the current Stark crop were indeed not his actual family. Jon's silence in curious patience allowed Tyrion to continue. "I may not have advised her over every step of her journey, but in the time I've accompanied her, I know that she is a sound and just leader. Terrible to some perhaps, but most certainly the right kind of terrible".

"I didn't consider her terrible until the other day" Jon noted, trying to mould Tyrion's words upon his own situation. "She seemed like something this realm needs".

" She _is_ what this realm needs" Tyrion told him sternly, trying to strengthen his point. "I've seen how she can unite the many under one banner whilst still being a just and fair leader". "So you'd call yesterday just and fair?" Jon asked, trying to reassert his opinion once again. "Yesterday was an exception" Tyrion noted, slightly more withdrawn in trying to admit a point he couldn't defend. "I've seen how she deals with justice and its ideals. She has her own views on the rights of justice yes, but in all the time I've know her, I have never seen her react quite like that. Something was off about her".

This again grabbed Jon's curiosity. Although the Lannisters were known throughout the north for their lies, Tyrion seemed like he was being genuinely honest. As much as he tried to note a fault in his words, he couldn't. "What do you mean?" Jon asked. Tyrion was hesitant to answer. He'd be going back on his own command from yesterday and speaking ill of the Queen behind her back. He also wasn't sure if he could trust the boy yet. Still, logic told him that she needed help. If there was two people that could possibly understand each other better than anybody else in the realm, he knew it would be the two Targaryens.

"Yesterday, after you left, she fell...ill" Tyrion confessed, making truth the focal point of their conversation. Jon was left confused by his statement. He couldn't quite grasp what Tyrion meant, letting him continue. "She's young and naïve, much like yourself". "I'm naïve?" Jon questioned, caught of guard by the sudden critic. "I meant, that you both have much to learn about your place in the realm. It would be far more beneficial for you to work together on that quest than to be at each others throat" Tyrion noted.

"So how would I go about that when she was close to having me burnt alive the last time?" Jon asked with far more commitment than before. Tyrion could see that he and bastard were on the same page now. It brought a smile to his face as he conjured a way to help him. "You just focus on what you are going to tell her when you do have a reasonable minute alone. I'll handle calming Daenarys down in the mean time". Jon nodded in agreement at the Lannister's words, putting his mind towards focusing on what he'd ask the Queen.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me Lord Snow, I have a very temperamental young Queen to talk to" Tyrion noted as he prepared to depart. As he made for the door, he heard Jon stop him temporarily. "Lord Tyrion! Thank you" Jon said, far more grateful for the Lannister's help than he would have first been upon seeing him. "Don't thank me yet. There is still much to be done. I'll let you know when we are good to proceed" Tyrion replied, smirking with pride as he exited Jons quarters.

Taking a heavy breath, part relief and part calming, he proceeded upstairs immediately. Whilst he had succeeded in winning Jon to his side rather quickly, he had a suspicion that this was only the easy part of the task accomplished. Daenerys would be a tougher nut to crack, particularly when she was seemingly already 'cracked' herself. He could only hope the Queen was far more open to civilised negotiations than she was yesterday. It would be a tough test of his metal but he knew time was short. If they were going to fight a war on two fronts, they'd need a unified leadership to inspire those around them.

Climbing the stairs, he notes the still burning mills churning away as they pumped steam and woodsmoke into the otherwise lightly snowing dusting of a skyline. Tyrion decided to log its image away as a metaphor in his mind should have to somehow plead reason to Daenerys. He had won her over before, saving his own skin upon their original meeting, though he knew this time would be different. He had gotten to know her persona well over the time he had advised her. She was a strong and just leader, focused in her intentions and proud in she was trying to accomplish.

She had bore the same fate as many a poor beggar or bastard in Westeros however in that she had seen so much so soon. Many other leaders were used to taking on the weight and burden of failure and setbacks over a gentler course during their lifetime, giving them a chance to recover and start again. All Daenerys had know since she was a child however was heartache and setbacks, her coming to power dotted consistently with fresh memories of pain and failure. Essos had been a stern test for the young Queen, though in her defence she had risen from almost nothing to the woman the people followed and rejoiced in. He needed to unlock that Daenerys again and deliver her back on the path to success.

As he eventually reached her door, he found it still guarded intently by the Unsullied he had commanded previously. By all rights, he was pleased to see that their unwavering loyalty had remained, even in baring such a task as technically imprisoning their own Queen. They stood aside for Tyrion, removing the blockade they had crossed with their spears. Tyrion took a deep breath as he began to set the door ajar.

At first, everything was unsuspecting. He had predicted that she may have smashed a few items around, or at the very most completely trashed the room. It remained intact however, as elegant and extravagant as you'd expect a Queen's quarters to be. As he moved further into the room, he discovered his second surprise; she was still there and accounted for. Her reckless actions had led Tyrion to believe that there was a slight possibility that one of her Dragons may have snatched her away, much like Drogon did in Meereen. She could have abandoned this fight that she was so clearly struggling with and have flown off into the night.

Yet here she remained, exhausted, exasperated but still here none the less. She didn't look at him directly, instead choosing to stare off into the unknown as she remained curled up and huddled against the bedframe. Tyrion took a moment to assess her state before he addressed her. She had clearly gotten no sleep again, nor had she gotten changed, her elegant royal attire she had received Jon in still present upon her person, if not a little creased. Her crown remained where it had stayed since she was first brought it; alone and stationary on the table near the window. Clearly, she was still battling her own inner doubts. This was something Tyrion hoped he could change.

"Your grace" he begun. Daenerys did not look at him, remaining still and idol in the sight of her most trusted advisor. "I think we need to talk about yesterday". "There isn't anything to discuss" she replied to him, bluntly yet incredibly meekly. He could respect her privacy on certain matters in any other situation. This time however, there was no chance of avoiding it. The truth would have to come out sooner rather than later.

"I don't think we can sneak so kindly around that now Daenerys" Tyrion informed her as he kept a stern expression. Daenerys began to feel her eyes well up once more as the emotional out bearing that was about to occur became all the more real.

"What happened yesterday?"

His question broke through her defences. She couldn't hold back any longer. At this point, she felt like no Queen, no ruler. Barely even a highborn of authority. Instead, she felt alone and afraid, scared of what the world was to throw at her next. She began to cry as the shame of her actions from the previous day came flooding back to her. "Tyrion, I'm sorry. I've been such a fool" she wept as the remorse echoed in her words. Tyrion almost began to feel guilty for triggering such an emotional outpouring. Still, he knew a night's worth of over thinking had probably filled the dam to its breaking point, his words being the tipping point that had pushed her over the edge.

"I don't think it's me you should be apoligising to, do you?" Tyrion questioned as he tried moving in closer to the scared young Queen. She simply buried her face into her arms as she receded further into her shell. Tyrion sighed as took a seat on the bedside close to where she whimpered. "I don't want this to be difficult for you Daenerys. I understand that this new challenge must be difficult but you have to remain strong and wise through the adversity. Making rash decisions like you did yesterday will only inspire doubt amongst your followers, not support".

"Oh Gods, is Jon ok? And Missandei? I treated them both so terribly" Daenerys stammered as he gathered what he referred to. Tyrion was quick to dispel her worry however. "Both are fine, don't fret in that concern" he reassured her as he tried to calm her down. "I've spoke with Jon this morning and he is willing to move on from this ordeal in the name of progress. Missandei is fine, shaken, though relaxed in the comfort of Greyworm". This relaxed Daenerys somewhat as she continued to seek help from the wise Lannister patron. "I think an apology may be on the cards to both however, particularly after your choice of words to them both".

Daenerys nodded passively as she began to dry her tears. "I swear to you, this will never happen again" she notified Tyrion sternly, her courage beginning to rear once more, leaving her true self present. "I don't have a doubt you will" Tyrion replied with a false sense of confidence to cheer her on. In his mind, he knew that he would have to keep a close eye on her straying from the path for now. Keeping her confident was a key factor in that however, so sugar coating some of the truth may well have been the best solution.

"I will fetch Missandei to help you get ready" he told her. "Then perhaps you can receive Jon more properly and privately this time". "Indeed. There is much to be discussed" Daenerys acknowledged as she wiped away the last of her tears. "I think that was the point he was trying to raise yesterday" he noted, still getting in the odd quip when he could. It could perhaps help in this sort of situation. As she began to straighten herself out, she remained silent. It gave him the chance to prepare a more sentimental speech to her. He admired the young woman for sticking things out to the point they had arrived at, particularly when so many would have either ran or led their followers into a brutal defeat. After his chance expositioning in the dungeons too, her almost felt a little accountable for her defence. She had nobody she could feel that bond too otherwise.

"I've seen leaders come and go in my time. I've seen the good and bad soar at their highest and falter at their lowest. A responsibility such as this one can test even the most hardened of men. It's perfectly normal to feel lost under the weight of such burden. I've seen you rise above it so many times now however that I don't just think, but I know you're beyond it. That is why I'll be by your side, regardless of what the world throws at you".

This brought a broadening smile of hope to Daenerys' otherwise pained face. She could appreciate the sentiment. "Thank you Tyrion, that means a lot" she confessed, wiping the last of the tears from her cheek. "It's my pleasure. Just...think of me like an older brother" he told her. He noted the phrase with more than a little hint of irony, the truth of their heritage all too familiar to him now. As much as he expected it to bring more joy to her expression however, he found only a sense of shock and exposure etched into her appearance. "How do you know?" she stuttered in disbelief. The secret she had kept from the scriptures had been exposed. He had worked out one of her deepest secrets. Ironically, Tyrion felt almost exactly the same feeling.

"Cersei told me shortly before her execution. How do you know?" he gasped in disbelief. She began to hold an expression of shame in not revealing this to him sooner. "I learned about it on Dragonstone. I'm so sorry Tyrion, I should have told you sooner" Daenerys confessed. "So she was telling the truth" Tyrion pondered as he thought over Cersei's final words to him. A silence reigned over the pair for a moment before Tyrion signaled his intention to leave. "I will go and fetch Missandei now. I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss". Before he could make good on his words however, she stopped him.

"I saw him Tyrion"!  
He didn't know what to make of her words, though the fear and dread in her voice told its own story. He turned to acknowledge as he abandoned his walk. "I saw our father. I saw how he was killed at your brother's hand. He was scarred Tyrion. I keep hearing his voice. He was scarred" Daenerys trailed off, the pain and terror of her ordeal still all too real to her. Tyrion saw it from a different perspective however. It began to reignite the fires of his fear, desperately hoping to quench them with logic as he battled against that most burning thought. Was the madness truly taking hold over her?

"I will hear nothing more of it" Tyrion informed her, trying to restore order back into the frame. "I swear it to you. Please believe me" she pleaded, seeking help from her half-brother. "What you saw was an illusion Daenerys, nothing more than the figment of an overworked mind. Rest for now and we'll get back to the business at hand later on". Tyrion's stern words left their imprint of both their perceptions. He continued to quell his suspicions. She on the other hand, felt more distanced than ever. She knew Tyrion was right in telling her to be strong. She didn't know if she could fight this recurring menace.


	8. Chapter 8

The day began to submit to the night over Kings Landing, the dusk ever fading as many began lighting candles and torches that faintly illuminated the city. Daenerys ignited a small candle on the nearby desk, wax dripping gently down it's exterior as the cold winter winds made its flame flicker. The more time went on, the more she doubted that Jon would show. She kept her emotions in check however as she talked with Missandei. Her aid had made the young Queen look more presentable than her disheveled aura of sleep deprivation beforehand. They had also manage to dispel the tension and bury the hatchet between them after Daenerys' breakdown the previous day.

Still, the young Queen paced around the room, ever uncertain of the outcome and whether or not she would get the opportunity for it to occur in the first place. "He will come Khalessi. Lord Tyrion has helped to make everything clear to him" Missandei reassured her friend, noting her nervous state. Daenerys appreciated her comforting words but still remained logical about the situation. "I would understand to be honest. Who would want to treaty reason after the way I abandoned it?" Daenerys asked rhetorically as she kept an aura of self loathing about her speech. "I've forgiven you Khalessi. You were kind and understanding in your apology. I'm sure Jon will feel the same when he hears your words too".

Daenerys smiled back at her friend, taking her words in good stead. Still, no mere compliments would quite extinguish the warning that latched upon her heart until the situation was resolved . She desperately needed to know where they stood, both for the sake of the realm and her own personal sanctity. This could either end on good terms or in complete disaster. Whilst she knew she could only negotiate with him to the best of her ability, there was always the possibility of him still being angered by her foolish actions. Two Targaryens at each others throats could spell doom for the realm in its darkest hour.

She recounted the Targaryen story of the Princess and the Queen that she had learned from Viserys. It had spelt the end of the last Dragons and the beginning of the downfall of Targaryen authority in Westeros. She knew the Northerners would follow Jon if disaster struck due to his Stark heritage, whilst her army would fight to the death for her honour. She wanted to avoid such conflict as much as humanly possible. Daenerys was fighting for life to continue in her newly conquered realm. They would be handing victory to their enemies if they fought now.

Minutes crept past like hours, the candle of the desk beginning to wane in height and stature. Light faded and the cold grew fiercer. Daenerys consigned herself to sitting on the bed with Missandei by her side, seeking comfort in her consort, even if very few words were spoken. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, there came a firm knock on the door. The two young women looked nervously at one another briefly as the moment came and went. Missandei gave her Queen's hand a gentle squeeze to sooth her tension before rising to meet the visitor. Daenerys stood up immediately to look professional and presentable, knowing full well she had to steel herself for what was to come. Regardless, she still held a lump in her throat as doubt crept its way throughout her mind.

She heard every little movement as it happened. Missandei moved to answer the door on her command. First, there was the slow creaking of the lock being flicked open, then the rasp of the handle turning before the door was slowly set ajar. Daenerys could tell by just looking at her counterparts face that their expected company was present. After a moment, Missandei moved aside to allow a figure through the doorway. Footsteps slowly echoed through her ears as the presence behind the wooden frame made itself known. By this point, Daenerys felt like she held her whole heart in her throat as she watched Jon emerge. At first, he surveyed the room somewhat before eventually bringing his eyes to rest upon her.

"Your grace" Jon spoke, a calm softness about his accented voice rather than the low growl she otherwise envisioned in her head. "Please, come in" Daenerys replied, somewhat hesitant. She cursed herself in her mind for forgetting his title. Giving one final glance to Missandei, the two looked into each others eyes, signalling their intent without words. Missandei's spoke to provide aid to her friend if necessary. Daenerys simply replied with an indication that she could leave. The young Naathi girl took her advice and swiftly left, shutting the door firmly behind her.

This left the two descendants of old Valyria alone, together in privacy in a room barely of any familiarity to what either of them had come from. Jon's gaze met hers once again after he finished his nervous survey of the room. Her eyes shone their brightest violet, just like his. This time however, there was no trace of anger or dissent, no strange red streaks visible through her fury. Instead, this time they looked nervous, reminiscent of his own. Neither could speak at first, both tongue tied and terrified of what the other could begin. Daenerys knew she had far more to get off her chest however following the rash proceedings in the Throne room. She eventually invited Jon to take a seat with her at the table, to which he duly accepted.

The two both fidgeted awkwardly whilst sat down, neither quite sure on where to start. Daenerys kept the initiative moving however, even though her heart beat rapidly beneath her chest. She knew it was the right thing to do as well as her duty as Queen.

"I want to apologise for my actions the other day" she began. "It was wrong of me to treat you in the manner I did, particularly if you are going to captain the defence of this city. Your knowledge and expertise will be valuable in this fight for survival. I only hope that you can forgive me for the way I acted". She had difficulty keeping contact with his face as she confessed her apology. Her head remained bowed as an indicator of submission and nerves. To her, she felt like there was no other way around it. It took her by surprise however when he began apologising too. "I want to apologise too your Grace. I understand your connection as a Targaryen to your Dragons. I wouldn't want to seem like I was bringing any harm to them. I hope I didn't offend you at all".

She was amazed by his compassion and understanding. Tyrion had truly worked wonders in quelling the tension as quickly as he did. She also knew that Jon was no bitter warlord and noble, offended by the slightest displeasure. He was young and confused, much like how Tyrion had described her at one stage. There was a great deal about the world that neither of them yet understood. It was time to put that to rest. "It seems we both still know very little of each other" Daenerys told him, almost amused by the fact that they were trying to put the others mind at rest. Jon mirrored her sentiment, agreeing wholeheartedly. "We've all made decisions we regret. It's what makes us who we are" he noted. "We learn from those decisions. Believe me, I've made plenty of them" Daenerys added, sparing a thought for those she had wronged in the quest for power. "I can't tell you how true that is" Jon acknowledged.

"That's one of the main reasons I wanted to speak to you your Grace. There is very little I understand about our...connection. Only what my father told me". "Your father?" Daenerys replied with surprise. Of course, she had jumped to conclusions in that respect, knowing full well that he meant Ned Stark and not Rhaegar Targaryen. "Ned Stark" he confirmed, also realising his folly. "He told me how if I hadn't gone North with him as his bastard, then King Robert would have surely had me put to the sword as an infant". "He told you this when you last saw him?" Daenerys asked, trying to avoid using 'executed' to convey the murder of Ned Stark at the hands of the Baratheons.

A wry smile crept across Jon's face. He would have been almost upset if he didn't find humour in the ludicrous and almost ridiculous explanation he was about to give. "Not exactly" he replied, focusing on her as he spoke. "When I was...betrayed by my brothers in the Watch, I had a vision before I woke up again. I sat with Ned in a godswood. He told me all about what happened at a place called the Tower of Joy. My mother was there too".

"Your mother?" Daenerys exclaimed at such an astonishing revelation. "Yes. I hadn't known who my mother was until that point. Ned apologised for not telling me. She apologised too. Lyanna Stark" Jon told her, recalling the brief moment he had gotten with his mother in the afterlife. "Did you see your...father too?" Daenerys asked curiously. She felt almost selfish in asking such a thing of him but she had to know. All she had ever gotten was past accounts of the brother she never knew. Though this may have only been another, it would truly have been the last words that Rhaegar may have spoken to anyone living.

"I thought I saw him in the shadows, but there was nothing said. Not directly" Jon told her, expressing the same sorrow that she held. He could see it evident in her eyes as he gave the answer. Whilst Ned Stark had raised him, not giving him much curiosity about Rhaegar aside from him being a key player in Robert's Rebellion and its cause, he knew the outlook was different for her. He was the brother she never knew and a man talked of highly in the folklore of Westeros. Jon couldn't fathom what it would have been like to have never known someone like Rob or Bran. The least he could do was try and comfort her.

"Lyanna did tell me about him briefly" he explained to her, trying to catch her attention again. "She said he wanted to see our family united more than anything when I was born. He loved her dearly, as she loved him. She didn't love Robert Baratheon. From what she described, he sounded like a good man". This brought a slight smile back to her face. The fact that he was trying so much began to put many of her earlier doubts about him to one side. Tyrion was right to call her a fool for her suspicions. Here was truly someone that could be reasoned with and remain level headed. The fact that he was true family only cemented that respect. "Ser Barristan told me the same once" she recalled as she thought over what she could remember about the stories of Rhaegar. "Selmy? The captain of Robert's Kingsguard?" Jon exclaimed in confusion. "He was a general in my Queensguard in the end. He was a valiant man" Daenerys replied.

"I'm glad that Rhaegar would have looked after both you and Lyanna. I've only heard accounts from few others who knew him. I know he loved your mother dearly" she confessed, recalling what she knew. "I'm sorry that your father didn't think the same way" Jon told her. It was no secret that Aerys and Rhaegar's relationship was rocky at best in the end, the King pointing the finger at his son's runaway romance for the peril that befell them. He had to admit, he could sympathise, recalling Ygritte and his bond to the free folk in his memory.

"My father wasn't exactly keen on many people in his final days" Daenerys answered, not quite sure how she could defend a man universally known as the Mad King, despite her vision of his end the other day. That still sent shivers down her spine, though she held her fears back as she tried making progress with Jon. "I think it's our natural instinct as someone's children to defy our elders in some shape or form". Her dry humour brought a chuckle from Jon as he recalled all the times he and the other Stark children would get themselves into mischief around Winterfell. He could see her more authentic side coming through in comparison to the scorned ruler barking authority from a Throne. Maybe Arya wasn't wrong about the Targaryen. Still, conjuring that family name brought the questions pressing in his mind back to the forefront. He knew that he'd have to ask her eventually and now was the best possible opportunity he might get.

"There's been one thing I've been meaning to ask you your Grace, if you'll allow me?" he asked politely. "If we're going to be honest with each other Jon than you may as well address me by my real name" Daenerys assured him, seeing that his nerves were just as present as hers in the heat of the moment. It took Jon back slightly that she'd be so humble, though of course, the questions still lingered on his tongue. "Daenerys. Are we…" he started, fidgeting somewhat like a nervous boy as he tried to summon the courage to ask a Queen something so personal. "Related?" Daenerys finished for him, clearly seeing at what he hinted at. "Well, if being able to calm one of my Dragons wasn't evidence enough for you, then I suspect looking at your eyes in the mirror might be". Jon could see she wasn't going to tiptoe around the matter, despite how nervous he was about admitting it. She seemed to have accepted it quicker than he, though she did of course have a head start whilst he was unconscious.

"So, that makes me a Targaryen like you?" Jon questioned. His expression gave away his uncertainty on the fact now so seemingly obvious to them both. Daenerys could see it as much as he tried to hide it. She couldn't begin to imagine how difficult it must have been. Everything he had ever known had been turned upside down in such a short space of time. As much as she wanted to tell him 'yes' and bring him firmly into her court, she knew that acting upon such instincts would be selfish. Instead, she brought herself to tell him the only sensible answer she could muster.

"I could tell you now what I perceive you as, but as I mentioned previously, there is much we don't know about each other. It would be unfair to judge you now. I've gone on living my life as the last remaining Targaryen. I only hope you can understand my scepticism of others in that respect, considering what become of my family". Jon could only agree on that sentiment. He knew what it was like to be an outcast. "For the first time in a long time, I can actually look upon another Targaryen that thinks with clarity and reason. That's something I've lacked until this day. But I cannot sway who you have become that easily. You've always been and will continue to be who you are. However you choose to live your life is entirely down to your decisions. Scattered history crafted by those before us does not shape us. It's how we choose to live our lives that defines what we're truly remembered as".

Jon was quite amazed by the intelligence of the Targaryen Queen whilst she still remained so sentimental. She wasn't fighting for selfish ambition but more the greater good. That was certainly a cause he could rally behind. Something sparked in his memory however. His wise words reminded him of another of relevance to this conversation. The pressure of telling such a revelation told in his face. "You weren't alone your Grace. There was another Targaryen still in Westeros". Dany's eyes lit up at such a statement. She wasn't entirely certain if he too knew about Tyrion. However, Tyrion and her had only came to the same conclusion earlier in the day. Surely he could not have delved into something so personal with a boy he hardly knew yet. Was there really another?

"Who?" she gasped, praying that he wasn't lying. Jon looked her in the eyes as he replied. He could see her longing for such information. Who would he be to deny her it. "Aemon. The third son of Maekar the first. He served as a Maester whilst I was part of the Night's Watch". Daenerys could scarcely contain herself at such a discovery. All she had thought about her family's demise was being turned on its head in the past few days. Though of course, there was the small matter of such a presence not being here. "Where is he?" She asked, trying not to get too ahead of herself, though disguising the excitement was difficult. Jon's tone told a different tale however, one she wished she'd picked up on before getting so carried away.

"He's dead your Grace".

Her smile began to wane as she concluded the logical truth. Her runaway dreams ceased as she gathered logically how much time had passed between the rebellion and now. The younger members of her family had been culled unmercifully. Whoever survived would have succumb to age over time. "How?" she asked, almost rather feebly. "His age caught up with him" Jon explained. This gave the Queen some comfort, knowing that he at least lived a full life, even if it was in exile. "He was a good man. A wise man. He aided me and my friend Sam at many points when we felt alone in the Watch. He served our brotherhood well. I can only hope he is well in the Kingdom beyond". Daenerys smiled at his kindness and honesty. She was at least happy to know that it was not only her and Viserys who survived. Still, it had left her slightly paralysed at the tongue, even if it was for a man she never knew. She left it to Jon to pick up the conversation next.

"While I was in the North, we heard whispers of occurrences in the realm and beyond" Jon recalled, moving the conversation forward. "We heard rumours of a silver Queen and her three Dragons bringing justice to Slaver's Bay". Daenerys held her head down humbly at the mention of her achievements being held in the realm of folklore. "If you'll pardon my assumption, it sounded like you had a Kingdom of your own there. Why come to Westeros?"

Daenerys didn't answer for a moment. She simply pondered on how so many in the Westerosi lands questioned her decision. She had heard it suggested many times ever since Tyrion first came to her in Mereen.

'Why come to Westeros?'

Jon may have been of her blood but he had not been raised Targaryen. He had only ever looked on at their family's legacy as a spectator, much in the way the other houses of Westeros had witnessed it. She could only give him the truth from her perspective and hope he understood. She leaned forward, staring Jon dead in the eyes as she began. "I did have a life there. A place I could call home. There were many times I flirted with the idea of leaving behind my desire to return and staying where I could do the most good. Life it seems, wasn't as simple as that". Jon could sense the distress such a life had caused her from the manner in which she spoke. "Every time I tried to settle, something drove me away. It was as though Essos didn't want me. I know now that they would never trust the Targaryens again, especially after I left my imprint".

"But this place is my real home. It was my family's home. For centuries we ruled, fought and lived in these lands. This place is just as much my home as it is yours Jon Snow" she explained, definitely and with pride. This however left a loophole for Jon that he just couldn't resist exploiting. "I thought you said that we weren't shaped by the past?" he queried boldly. Daenerys simply smirked however. She could see he was patronising her. "I said not to let them shape us yes. I didn't say we couldn't emulate their better examples with our own free will".

Jon could only recoil somewhat at her response as he realised she had put him in his place. He expected an all too familiar phrase to follow, though thankfully he was willing to continue. "What do you want to be remembered as Daenerys?" he asked curiously, drawing the conversation back to her in an attempt to find out more. She had to ponder on her answer, though once it was delivered, it was clear she was a woman who knew what she wanted.

"It may sound cliche, but I want to bring honour back to my families name. We came from nothing when we arrived at Dragonstone. It was only ambition that kept us going. Aegon's ambition. When he, Visenya and Rhaenys first landed on these shores, they brought with them power and nobility, the kind to unite a Kingdom much like Old Valyria. What they left was a legacy of prosperity that united much Westeros for over two centuries. Aegon was rewarded his followers and dealt rightfully with those who fought to unsway his achievements. When he passed, the Seven Kingdoms took a long time to find the stability be brought. His examples are still what shapes these lands today. Thats what I want to be remembered as. Not just as a conqueror but as a mediator. A peacekeeper for all people, not just the nobles".

"What about the Dance of Dragons?" Jon asked, addressing the obvious elephant in the room on that timeline. Daenerys retracted somewhat at that sentiment. The north really didn't forget a thing. However, she knew she had the ability to steer him towards her viewpoint. He was open minded enough to see that. "It was an unfortunate piece of history. One that shouldn't be repeated. I will fight tooth and nail to make sure a tradegy like that never befalls the Kingdom again" she vowed profoundly. "I will see our realm united Jon. The mistakes of the past will not be forgotten. Instead, we will learn from them and make good on our word. That is the mark of a true ruler".

It was indeed a very ambitious sentiment, at least from Jon's perspective. It had left him pretty speechless. She was clear on her word and ambition, even if it was firmly embedded in sentimemt for hwr family. Still, agree or otherwise, he was a part of their history now. He knew that such a detail would hold sway on how he was perciever. It he was going to learn from it, he may as well learn in from a true Targaryen. Daenerys was youthful but maintained much wisdom, similar to that Maester Aemon had lectured him with. He also realised how important this alliance could prove to protecting the North. Protected Rickon, Sansa and Arya was something he'd always want to oversee personally. Though they could look after themselves, he knee gaining favour with a Queen would be the ultimate defence.

Even Daenerys was slightly baffled at the sheer ambition and scope of what she had just described. It almost gave her a slight sense of pride. For the first time in days, she could finally feel her mind working at optimum strength once again. She remembered Tyrion's words in describing her mind as her greatest weapon. Right now, she felt like it was polished and sharpened as the most deadly longsword. Still, she knew she was currently negotiating. Now was not the time to get carried away. If Jon was purveying curiosity, she could equally deliver. "What do you want to be remembered as Jon?" she asked him in return.

Jon thought for a moment on the question. He didn't have any grand scope planned out for his life. For a while now, he had barely considered himself alive at all after what befell him. He felt like the judgement had already come after his vow in the Night's Watch had ended. From waking upon the pyre, he had simply followed the instructions the Red Woman had whispered into his ear. Now here he sat, face to face with the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, plotting for their survival together against the threat that was the White Walkers. Life had taken a very different turn for Jon Snow.

"I don't really care to be remembered. Not in the grander scope of things anyway" he replied honestly after a moment. "I knew that I'd only ever be a spectator in Winterfell whilst I watched the other Stark children ascend to power in one way or another. I knew I had to make my own destiny if I were to do anything useful with my life".

"Tyrion told me how you volunteered for the Night's Watch" Daenerys input. "He accompanied me to the wall ironically" Jon added. "That was before this business of bloodshed began. He gave me some good advice funny enough just before I left Winterfell". Daenerys smiled at Tyrion's ironic ability to be present in the right place at just the right time. "He seems to be fairly capable of that" she said, complimenting her Queen's hand. "Well that and the wine drinking" Jon joked, bringing a chuckle from both of them.

"Why did you volunteer may I ask? I've heard of plenty of others who would use their fleeting legitimacy in their favour. I could crown you warden of the North right now in fact" Daenerys stated as she pondered on her relatives decision. "That's a title for Rickon Stark, not me. That was a title for Rob too before his life was taken from him. I could have abandoned my post and rushed to his aid at any point but I didn't. I wasn't going to break the vow I made" he answered honestly. "I've never been the type for gold or glory, nor the type to rule. I just wanted to make a difference, make something of my life. The Wall seemed like just as good a place as any in the North". Daenerys could only slightly nod her head in agreement. Much like he would never quite fully grasp her story, she would mirror that respect with his. Still, such valor was hard to find in the modern age.

"Sam explained to you about the eyes didn't he?" Jon enquired, moving the conversation forward. "I knew little of what they were either until he dug an explanation out of one of his books. I knew it was something certain members of my family possessed, though it's true meaning is still something fairly unknown" Daenerys answered. She took a brief glance towards the nearby mirror once more. Still her eyes shone their gleaming shade of violet. In fact, they seemed brighter than ever now.

"I didn't realise mine had changed until I saw them first hand" Jon explained. "I felt a power course through me though when I was at Harrenhal. It was something I'd never thought possible. There was a call in my mind, drawing something towards me".

"Thats what led me to you" Daenerys remarked, correlating the familiar symptom. "I felt in here in the capital. My Dragons felt it too. Something was calling out to us. Now I know that something was you". Though they were both still confused at the sheer nature of such a link, they were at least helping each other to piece together the puzzle. 

"If getting this second chance has made me desire anything, then it's just to live and learn" Jon concluded, bringing her attention back. "And to love?" Daenerys asked, trying to complete the trio. She instantly wanted to put her hand through her face in embarrassment. Such a statement made her seem like some starry-eyed young maiden from an enchanted kingdom or something preposterous. It did bring a smile to Jon's face, though there was a painful reminder hidden behind it. "I did love once. That seems like a long time ago now" he confessed as he recalled how Winter and its devastation on the living had taken Ygritte from him. "I understand the feeling" Daenerys replied sorrowfully, recalling Drogo and the memory of his slow demise. Whilst it was a trait neither of them particularly wanted, they realised that they'd both experienced hardship in their hearts during their time in this world. Such tragedy tied the knots of fate even tighter in their meeting.

"Family, duty, honour. All powerful leeways to follow for the best of us" Daenerys noted as she looked to break the silence, consumed in thought by their philosophical conversation. "I thought you didn't believe in any of them?" Jon asked, recalling her words in the Throne Room the previous day. Daenerys too remembered her statement, though not why she had made it. "I was wrong" she confessed. "I would be lying if I said I hadn't been motivated by them either".

"What motivates you now then?" Jon asked. "My Kingdom and its survival" Daenerys replied unyieldingly. "I've not come here simply to get my revenge. I intended on staying here to protect the people. I'll need your help in that Jon". He was pleased to see they both complied with each others aim. "My vow was to protect the Seven Kingdoms. I'll fight that battle with you Daenerys" he responded. With that agreement, Daenerys felt like they were now truly on the same side. Finally she had not only a strong council around her but family who could stand with her against adversity. "If these are to be our final days, I'm glad we could patch things together" she divulged to him with honesty. "There will be many more days to come if we work together" Jon concluded.

The pair were ready to call time on their meeting. They had quelled the others doubtful sentiments and truly agreed on a cause they could both fight for. Whether or not it would last remained to be seen. Daenerys could sleep peacefully tonight however in the knowledge that she had somebody like Jon fighting in her corner. As the two stood up from the table, he was about to wish her a good evening. However, something outside cut him off, taking both of their attentions. A brassy call echoed amongst the winter gales, echoing over the hills around the city as it pierced their ears. Moving swiftly to the balcony, the two Targaryens looked south and tried to pinpoint the source of the noise. Even through the gathering darkness, it didn't take them long to spot it.

Moving down from the hills to the south was a huge host, their torches illuminating their path as they marched towards King's Landing. They must have been thousands strong with various banners waving amongst the contingent. One that stood out and populated many ranks however was that of a golden flag, embellished with a powerful stag in its centre. "It's the Baratheon's armies. They made good on their word!" Jon exclaimed in amazement as he watched the army moving closer. Daenerys too looked on in amazement and joy. This was just the kind of encouragement the city needed. It also signified to her that the Seven Kingdoms would begin to rally behind her to fight a common foe. She felt overwhelming pride and relief in her heart as she watched on from the Red Keep with Jon.

In the lower reaches of the palace, Tyrion too had managed to find himself a good view. He stood with many others in amazement at the spectacle unfolding before them. "This is the other army?" Greyworm questioned as they looked on. "Yes. That's the Baratheons! Now all we need is the…".

Tyrion was cut off by a messenger however, calling his name. Whilst Greyworm remained transfixed with the others, Tyrion turned to meet him. "Lord Tyrion! A raven from Highgarden" the young messenger informed him, handing over the parchment. Tyrion began to desperately hope for good tidings as he unraveled the message. Upon reading its contents however, his heart sank. With dark wings came dark words. The message was brief but it needn't have entailed much. It's message was stark and clear to anyone who might have read it.

"Highgarden has fallen. The Tyrells are either dead or in chains. Warn the Queen that the R'hllor are mobilising".

"Who else has seen this message?" Tyrion hesitantly asked the young squire. "Nobody my lord. It's just arrived" the boy feverishly replied. Tyrion hesitated for a moment on what to do with such news. The heat of the moment brought him to a swiftly made choice however, even if it was a merely temporary one. "Nobody else gets word of this message until I say so. Do you understand boy?" Tyrion demanded. "Yes my lord!" the boy answered, nervous at the possibility of offending his superior. As he left, Tyrion stored the message away in his back pocket. In the face of progress being made, such news would be disconcerting for the Queen and her council. He knew he'd have to tell her but only when the time was right. Deciding that time however was nearly impossible to predict.


	9. Chapter 9

_"Hi everyone. Just a few brief words before the next chapter. First off_ , _apologies_ _slight delay in getting it to you all. I've been exceptionally busy with work and other general stuff recently so as a result, near enough the only time I've had to write has been on the journey back and forth from London every day. I've made this chapter longer as a result of that but also because I've wanted to get more content per chapter. I will probably end up with more chapters than first planned because there is so much to the story I didn't originally anticipate writing.  
Secondly, I received a bit of feedback on the last chapter on certain things one of the characters stated. Now I appreciate all constructive feedback as it helps me get past any mistakes. However, in this instance, I feel like I should remind people that many of the characters in the story have counteracting opinions on certain events that have happened over the lore's timeline. As a result, their speech is always going to acknowledge their opinion and knowledge of the situation, even if we as the audience know otherwise. Anyways, ramble over. Enjoy the new chapter all" :)  
_

Almost a week had passed since the incident in the Throne Room and the arrival of the Baratheon forces to King's Landing. Though the city still stood on a knife's edge of tension, its residents began to settle somewhat into their newly established routine. Disruptions between the citizens and the new guards decreased as more Westerosi soldiers from both the armies of the North and Storms End were drafted in to patrol the streets, allowing the Unsullied to focus on more military affairs. Each and every day, clouds of steam rose through the cold winter air as the furnaces burned alight, a stockpile of Valyrian steel being crafted for the fight so inevitable.

In the Red Keep, things began to settle as its inhabitants began banding together for a common cause. Near enough continuous meetings were held, almost twice daily, with the commanders and warlords from the armies now present and strategizing with Jon, Daenerys and the small council. Of course, this presented the opportunistic amongst their ranks with a chance to sneak in talks about their future in the realm should they overcome the peril ahead. It seemed ambition and power was ever present in the eyes of some men despite the imminent danger they faced. It left the small council in disarray at exactly how to handle them. Daenerys held firm however with the support of her advisors, not budging an inch to their demands whilst her Kingdom was in the danger it was.

Tyrion was pleased to say the least, to see her and Jon working so closely now, their differences and paranoia of each other's intentions firmly cast aside as they worked toward a common resolve. As the week went on, they even had the chance to teach the Stark children certain tricks of the trades when they had the opportunity. Jon taught both Arya and Rickon to fight whilst Daenerys tutored both of them and Sansa on politics. At one stage, he had even taught Daenerys teaching Jon a little Valyrian. Should they survive the imminent peril in their wake, they may yet have been laying the foundations for a flourishing realm with a solid basis for a North and South alliance. That was something not experienced since the earlier days of Roberts victory over the last failing regime that sat upon the Throne.

Of course, he wouldn't dare put it quite like that to Daenerys, though he did make certain to compliment her on her progress several days through. She was particularly thankful after his efforts to help stabilise her palace and indeed, her own mind. He recalled her giving him a small parting kiss on the cheek as she left one day after a successful meeting. He could grow use to that kind of treatment from a 'sister', certainly never experiencing that sort of kindness from Cersei in his youth. Though as much as humility and cooperation was evident amongst the residents of the palace, Tyrion couldn't help feeling guilty. He had still not shown Daenerys the message from Highgarden and the danger they faced from the South. He only hoped that Jaime had been delivered something similar so that he could prepare. The fight would most certainly come to Casterly Rock first.

The Tyrells army had almost certainly received a similar message as they were still nowhere to be seen. It was obvious they turned tail immediately to aid their own in the Reach. Tyrion could see it was disheartening to the others that the Tyrells were seemingly waving their cause after such a promising council before. He knew he'd have to reveal the truth sooner rather than later. Time was not a comfort they had however as their possible destruction could come at any day. He wanted to make sure that the Queen and her contingent were ready for such news though before he broke it to them. They could be rational about things and work out a strategy from there. Right now, they just about had a fleeting strategy to deal with the White Walkers. Plus, he didn't want Daenerys recalling any of the Lannister forces at present whilst his homelands remained at risk.

As morning dawned over the bay to herald in another day, Tyrion sat alone in his office, frittering away at paperwork. There were several tasks he went over regarding the administration of the city, his experience allowing him to be knowledgeable and effective with the inner workings of finance and judicature, more so than his Queen and her mostly inexperienced council. If they were to come through this mess alive, they may as well give themselves a head start to be better off than most of the Kingdom they ruled. However, one piece of parchment in particular had consumed most of Tyrion's morning; the letter he was writing to Jaime.

He knew he had to keep his brother in tune with the facts, or the most essential of them at least anyway. As much as he'd steer around any news of Daenerys' breakdown the other day, he'd substitute that volume with as much as he knew about the fall of Highgarden. He pleaded with him to prepare and be alert for any peculiar developments in the South, stating first hand that he'd handle the North and to contact him with anything else of importance. They were grave words for grave times. Still, he knew Jaime would be expectant of such news from his younger brother, affairs in the capital being at their most critical.

As he finished the concluding touches of his note, Tyrion was distracted by a sudden hubbub coming from outside. The noise sprung up from the courtyard, its sound resembling clapping and joy. Such a tone was nigh bordering foreign to the streets of Kings Landing, particularly in days like these. Abandoning his desk momentarily, he strode out of his room and into the hallway. From the open ledge, he could watch over the courtyard of the Red Keep. A considerable crowd had gathered, mostly comprised of the remaining nobles in the Palace. They seemed to be preparing a greeting of some kind.

Their commotion was caused by the emergence of Daenerys and Rickon Stark, both being accompanied by Daario and Jon respectively as well as a troop of Unsullied guards. A suggestion she had long flirted with on their journey home was to walk amongst her people in the capital, showing that she was just as concerned for their welfare as she was for the highborns of the city. With the current state of affairs however, she also made it her priority to visit the Northern refugees still taking shelter in the shanty town just outside the city walls. Jon had also wanted to make sure Rickon was present with her when she made that journey. The Northerners were stubborn at the best of times. They would be far more keen to see the last surviving Lord of Winterfell than a Targaryen Queen, despite her seeming concern for their wellbeing.

Tyrion could only look pleased as he witnessed Daenerys making good on her word. Truly, she was living up to her potential, her actions bringing a different nature of rule to the otherwise omitted common folk. He saw her bright smile beaming across her face as she finally realised that ambition. Dreaming such grandeur for so long was what kept her going both before and after she had come to know him. Now it was finally legitimate. Tyrion decided to head downstairs to get a better look as the otherwise quite momentous occasion commenced. A hint of positivity for once was something not to be taken for granted. Of course, in his haste and curiosity, he left the door to his chambers wide open to the prying eyes of the world.

Not long after after his departure, somebody did indeed come across the empty room. "Lord Tyrion?" Missandei called out inquisitively as she searched for the Queen's hand. She had come to inform him of the Queen's journey into the city, though he had clearly already caught wind of such news. Before she departed however, she took a moment to look around the Lannister lords chambers. It was certainly a far cry from what she had once experienced as a slave, his personality reflected in the possessions he kept and the way he kept the room. The most obvious feature upon his dresser was the various bottles of wine sat upon it, some full whilst others were emptied.

As she prepared to turn and depart, a sudden gust of wind blew in through the open door. The icy air made her shiver, the freezing temperatures of Westeros in winter a completely different climate to that she had been used to on her journeys with Daenerys. The gust was indeed so strong that it knocked a few of the flimsy pieces of parchment from Tyrion's desk, scattering them over the floor as they landed. She sighed in frustration at the occurrence, knowing full well that it wasn't in her nature to leave things looking so untidy. Setting the door to in order to curb the direction of the wind, she set about picking up each individual piece. Laying them back out on the table, her curiosity got the better of her as she skimmed over some of their contents. Much of the subject matter she was unfamiliar with, their general make up being of politics and other such affairs.

However, one of the last she recovered caught her eye. He was seemingly addressing a note to his elder brother Jaime. She had seen the man briefly during his trial and the meeting between the realms leaders that followed. He was swathe and rather handsome for a Westerosi man, though she knew that was insignificant in comparison to the crimes he had committed against the Queen and her family. Despite her desire for justice against the 'Kingslayer', she had shown him mercy after persuasion from Tyrion and allowed he and his children to return to their home in the west. Upon reading the message however, she saw its distressing content first hand. He was warning his brother about something they had been blissfully unaware of.

The other army Daenerys sought had turned tails on their path north and were retreating back to aid their homeland. Their country had fallen into chaos and now the Reach would be scattered in the face of this growing new threat. Missandei felt a lump in her throat, her heart began sinking in realisation of this new danger. This was grave news for all concerned. The forces that were conspiring against them were now mobilised and slaughtering all who opposed them. She knew these people worked in a very similar vein to that of the old masters of Slavers Bay, although their chaos and cruelty seemed to possess even less reason.

A realisation dawned upon her however after the initial panic subsided. Why and how did Tyrion know this? Why hadn't he informed Daenerys? They were concerning accusations to make and valuable secrets to hold. Was the man they trusted actually conspiring against them? Missandei tried to push such denouncements from her mind but the situation seemed far beyond logical now. She knew she had to inform Daenerys before it was too late. Picking up the piece of parchment and concealing it on her person as best she could, she raced out of the room to find her friend. This was a secret that could be held no longer.

The mood amongst the crowds that gathered to see this new Queen were mixed at first. Whilst many of the younger generation would greet her with joy and kindness, their elders remained sceptical about the Targaryen ruler, memories of the last one to sit upon the Throne still present in their minds. Daenerys tried to take the fleeting positivity to mind, greeting those who paid her notice as she walked through the streets with her company. She kept her nerves in check of course, knowing the sight of her worried and afraid would not be very inspirational for those around her. Still, she felt tense as the eyes of the city watched over her.

Jon felt equally nervous as he walked closely with Daenerys and Rickon, his hand hovering close to the hilt of Longclaw at all times. He was, ironically, drawing nearly as many views as the Queen herself. The sight of a man dark of hair and untamed like a Northman but with the purple eyes of a Targaryen was enough to confuse and concern many in equal measure. He only hoped that this presence would not draw the main attention away from what the Queen was trying to accomplish this day. He knew the looks he got here would be tame compared to those he would get when they eventually descended upon the Northern camps however. They would be even more wary of one of their own sharing such a Targaryen trait whilst protecting their little Lord.

The contingent treked ways through the streets, human activity becoming ever more bustling as more people caught wind of the Queen moving through their territory so care free. This culminated in their emergence to a plaza near the foot of the hill that they had just arrived from the peak of. The square was packed with onlookers, all vying to get a glimpse of the Targaryen that now sat upon the throne. Their reaction was mostly positive, many even cheering Daenerys for her bold nature of coming to be amongst her people in such bleak times. It brought a beaming smile to her face as she began to greet her followers, fulfilling the dream she had long envisioned.

Her guards stayed close to her and Rickon at all times of course, ever watchful as the citizens jostled to catch a glimpse of their new Queen. Present amongst them were Jon and Daario. The former had equal concern for both of them. Still, he felt happy in watching them both revel in something they were born to do. Rickon was receiving just as much support as Daenerys, his own face in particular expressing how surprised he was to be getting such positive attention from the Southerners. Daenerys simply glowed in her element, a vision of joy and thankfulness as she mingled with the people of Kings Landing.

Jon could only smile back as she glanced his way briefly. She was happy as a lark, her lovely smile broad and vibrant. He hadn't seen success for those he cared about in a long time, life throwing either dour moments of horrid setbacks their way in the wake of winter's arrival. This was truly a moment to savour while it lasted. Glancing around however to keep on his guard, he saw the smiles and delighted faces wasted upon the Queen's hired hitman. Daario simply scowled with scepticism at the young Northern man, keeping one eye ever trained on him as well as the crowd. It was enough to erase the delight from Jon's face as he stayed on his guard around such a person. He knew that the safety of these people and the unification of the Seven Kingdoms meant little to him. All that mattered to the sellsword was the next payday.

As Daenerys began to make her way toward the centre of the plaza, a young girl managed to worm her way through the mass of people to present herself to the Queen. Daenerys spotted her of course, cute as a button, staring right up at her. The child presented her with some white, winter flowers that she had previously kept hidden behind her back. Daenerys knelt down to her level to collect them. It was a beautiful shade of lilac, with leaves that still blossomed fully despite the cold. "Thank you. Where did you get this?" Daenerys asked in curiosity. The young girl was too shy to speak, simply pointing in the direction of the flowerbed.

Daenerys saw she was pointing to the centre of the plaza. Indeed, a bed of these winter flowers seemed to flourish, despite the snow and ice freezing over the soil they grew from. The patch seemed to sit directly in front of a concrete mound. It was an old platform of some sort that looked like it once supported a statue. All that remained of the towering stone sculpture now was its boots, still rooted in place despite the statue being brought down. Curiosity took over Daenarys as she began to walk forward towards the odd rostrum. Her guards followed suit, shielding the people away momentarily as she knelt in the flowerbed.

Their shouts and cheers were drowned out momentarily as she focused on the former statute platform. There seemed to be a plaque of bronze mounted upon its front, for the most part concealed by snow and ice. Daenerys would not be swayed by the mystery that easily however as she shoveled and chipped away at the snow and frost concealing it. As the frozen matter began to fall away, she began to notice faint words engraved upon the plaque. She sought for a sign of discovering what once stood here. Once enough of the icy debris was clear, she began to make out the identity of the plaza's former resident.

' _Rhaegar Targaryen; protector of the realm and all its people_ '.

The sight left Daenerys shocked. Here stood a skeleton of the old Targaryen rule before her time. Clearly her relative who once stood here had been torn down by the people during the usurper's rebellion, the plaque rooted in place as a hollow reminder of what once was. Looking around, she stared back over the crowd jostling for just a sight of her. She knew that many would still be just as sceptical of a Targaryen ruler after turning on their old Kings and Queens so easily. However, to provoke this type of positive response, things must have certainly taken a step backwards under the rule of Baratheons and Lannisters.

She began to form an idea as she sought to take advantage of the situation at hand. Standing upright again, she began to climb the concrete mound until she stood directly upon it. Placing herself in the centre, she glanced out over the now swelling crowd. She pictured back to her conquest of Yunkai in her mind and the jubilation of the slaves that followed, their cries of 'Mhysa' heralding in a new dawn for them. Now Daenerys would do the same for the people of Kings Landing. Tyranny and corruption had robbed them of a normal life much in the same way slavery had ruled over Slavers Bay. Now was the time for change. She would be the catalyst.

As her guards formed a protective ring around the centre, Daenerys began to raise her hand to usher in silence. To her surprise, the people began to obey, shouts and cheers fading into little more than isolated whispers as all eyes were fixed upon her. "Residents of this fair city" she began to address them. "I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. You may have heard rumours about me from your leaders, good and bad. None of those matter now". The crowd remained hanging on her words, even after introducing her heritage. Jon and Rickon were amongst them, the former keeping watch over the latter yet still amazed by how the young Queen was able to control the mob on just her mere words alone.

"Unlike your former leaders, I will not give you lies or feed you false rumours as fact. Our Kingdom is under attack by a menace far greater than anything we could have anticipated before. Our entire way of life is changing and nobody will be immune to such danger". Whispers began to circulate amongst the people once more, the fear of the White Walkers evident in their words. "I swear to you now though, on the hallowed grounds my ancestors once stood upon, that no man, woman or child will be left unprotected or undervalued. Only together will we put an end to this menace, united to the last, rich or poor".

"No longer will you be trampled under the heels of your oppressors. There will be no more corruption, no more jesters masquerading in the light of false privileges. This is a time for all men to be seen as equals. I've seen the oppression that reigns when freedom is stripped from us. I've seen the fear that it inspires and the terror it spreads. That's why I swore long ago to destroy it. Many in my army took to this crusade and now we stand before you. We aren't your oppressors or masters. We are your equals. Only as equals will we defeat the menace descending upon our lands. Only together will we survive".

The crowd had been listening to her every word until the culmination of her speech began a rapturous cry of approval amongst the populace. Even Daenerys herself was surprised by the reaction, the cheers almost deafening as even her doubters began to warm to her cause. They had opened their minds to her ideals, their determination to fight for tomorrow unifying them in a way very few would have expected such a divided populace to be. Just like in Slavers Bay, the people began to call for her. Here, she be known as the 'Silver Queen'.

Jon looked on as Daenerys soaked up the positivity from the crowd. Hers was now the voice they followed. Though any rational thinker knew that it would take more than just mere words to defeat the Walkers. Action was needed. As Jon looked to Rickon however, a large smile across his face, he knew they now had a catalyst. People were beginning to believe in a tomorrow to fight for.

All of a sudden however, something else caught his attention through the crowd. Somebody was trying to signal out for both he and Rickon. The man tried worming his way through the people, frantically waving his arms as he called out for the Northern Lord to make himself known. By this time, Rickon had noticed too, hearing the words heeding him. "Wait here a moment" Jon told him, wanting to keep his brother safe from the mob. Rickon kept still as he watched Jon leave. Abandoning all caution, he forced his way past the mobilised guards and into the surge, sliding through the gathering mass as he sought out the man trying to draw his attention. Eventually, they found each other in the franticism.

"Who are you?" Jon asked him hastily. "Bryen Umber my lord" he panted, catching his breath as he came down from his hectic sprint towards the royal company. Jon had heard of House Umber before from Ned Stark. They were ferocious fighters, bold and powerful. Some had even compared them to the wildlings as opposed to other Northern houses, so to see one in such distress was a worrying omen. "What's going on Bryen?" Jon inquired. "My lord, you have to come quickly. There's been a revolt in our camps outside the city walls" Bryen informed him, his voice sounding as worrying as the situation.

"What do you mean a revolt?" Jon asked, the hesitancy and concern now evident in his speech. "Several hundred men have broken off into a splinter group. They're threatening bloodshed if they don't see the King in the North or the Queen". The Umber Lord looked through the mass of people as he uttered his final words. Jon turned with him and caught exactly what he was looking at. Rickon looked back at them both through the crowd, confusion on his face as he attempted to sus out what was happening. "He's just a boy, these disputes shouldn't be for him yet" Jon pleaded as he thought about the danger this could put Rickon in. "With all due respect my Lord, he is the last surviving son of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn. They will only listen to his word".

Jon knew that Bryen was right. If there was anybody who could hold sway over the Northern host right now, it would be a Stark. Feigning indecisiveness for a moment, the Umber's pleas brought him to his choice. He raced back over to retrieve Rickon. "What's going on Jon?" Rickon asked feverishly, his inquisitorial thoughts wearing down his patience. "We have to go to the Northern camps Rickon. There's trouble" Jon answered, trying to keep things are brief as possible so they could get going quicker.

Rickon knew he could question Jon all afternoon, but the hesitancy in his brother's eyes told him otherwise. He simply kept it at one.

"What about the Queen?"

Jon looked back up toward the centre of the plaza. Daenerys was still very much involved with directing her crowd, her guards close by her side. He knew that breaking her away from them now would only delay them further. "We can't wait around. This is an urgent matter" Jon told him, looking him dead in the eyes as he spoke those final words. That began to click with Rickon, his honour to the bannermen he knew he would inherit soon enough coming into question. He took Jon's hand as the two rejoined the Umber Lord and raced toward the city gates.

Once they managed to break through the crowds in the plaza, it was a far swifter journey to the gates. The two Northmen and their young Lord wasted no time in sprinting to the camp, the thought of bloodshed and vendetta worrying Jon even more as it disrupted his plans for a united army against the Walkers. They knew more about tackling the terrors that had lurked beyond the wall than every other house in Westeros combined. If they were to truly survive this hardship then the crown couldn't have them revolting.

As they reached the gates, a small crowd of onlookers had began to gather, the disruption and unrest outside drawing their attention. As the trio tried to force their way through it, Jon heard a familiar voice spring up from the crowd, calling out to him and Rickon. Glancing around, he spotted Arya and Sansa present amongst the onlookers. They rushed over to the group as the crowd remained firm in its onlook. "What's going on? There are rumours trouble outside?" Arya began questioning. "It isn't safe here, you girls go back into the city" Jon told them sternly, trying to shepherd them from danger as quickly as possible. The two Stark girls were having none of it however.

"They're our people too Jon. If they're in trouble, we want to help" Sansa told him sternly. Normally he wouldn't have expected such defiance from her, though times had indeed changed since they once again met back in the Eyrie. Clearly some of Arya's fighting influence was rubbing off on her sister. "Besides, Rickon needs someone nearby who can actually handle a sword" Arya smirked, looking right at her little brother as she held the hilt of Needle tightly. "Shut up! I can look after myself" Rickon argued back. If there was one thing that Jon couldn't stomach right now however, it was childish bickering.

"Enough!" He yelled, silence both of the younger Starks. "Bryen, you watch the girls at all times, understood?" Jon commanded. "Yes my Lord" Bryen replied obediently, making sure his sword was ready to protect the two younger Stark ladies. Inching their way past the crowd, the quintet edged past the guards on the gate and out beyond the city's ramparts. The snow was beginning to fall lightly once again, dusting the already frozen ground in yet another deceiving layer of the powder. However, even a copious amount of snow couldn't have prepared Jon and the Stark children for what they witnessed.

The camp around the city walls was crammed and overflowing, with little but rough tents and chalets to keep the people warm. All around them, even the most hardened shivered in the biting cold, the men keeping watch by scarcely lit fires as they surrendered the minimal warmth of the tents for the protection of the women and children. Supplies were starting to run scarce and many seemed to be waning in energy, looking as though they could keel over with the next strong gust of icy wind. Jon felt his heart sink as he glanced around. He had suspected something desperate, though few could prepare for a sight so dire. The Walkers could afford to bide their time and let winter do the worst for them.

"This way!" Bryen ushered, guiding them through the mass of displaced refugees. Jon began to hear the commotion before he saw it, a standoff of words occurring between the two rivalling sub-factions. Many of the Northern soldiers were armed and ready for combat with negotiations seemingly breaking down. As they got towards the front of the surrounding contingent, Bryen called out to a large man over watching proceedings, shaking his head in discontent at the petty words thrown. He knew all this could be solved with a good hard thrust of the sword clean through the necks of these rats.

"Father!" Bryen called out. The large man turned instantly hearing his son's voice. Jon recognised his ragged and steely face. It was 'GreatJon' Umber, a loyal Stark bannerman. Jon had ironically thought him to be dead after the incident at The Twins that took Robb's army. Still, there were few who could deny that trying to kill an Umber was one of the toughest asks in all the Seven Kingdoms. He seemed to still bare the scars of such an encounter however, a painful looking cut etched into his right cheek that seemed to have not truly healed. Though his frame remained fully intact however. He towered like a giant amongst others.

"Bryen!" Lord Umber bellowed back as he sought out his son's face. It was whilst doing this that he noticed Jon and the Stark children. However, whilst he pleasurably noted the return of the Northern Lord and his sisters, he wasn't entirely certain about Jon. "I told you not to bring any Targaryens!" He snapped at his son. "Targaryen?" Bryen asked in confusion, glancing around to see something he didn't realise. It was only when he pointed his son in Jons direction that he put two and two together.

Jon had almost not been able to piece it all together. However, he realised his folly soon enough. The weathered Northern Lord clearly knew more about the history of the realm and its inhabitants than his son. Greatjon had instantly recognised the bright, purple eyes Jon sported as a sign of his Targaryen heritage. Such a trait was always going to be one to raise eyebrows. A man as stout in old Northern tradition as the Umber lord would definitely not be the sort of person let the memories of Targaryen treachery slip from his mind. Jon had to move quickly to put the man's mind to ease however before he alerted others.

"Wait! I'm not taking any sides here. I know it's hard to believe but I'm the son of Lyanna Stark. I was raised as a Northman under Ned Stark's stewardship, no different to how you and your boy were raised".

"It's true, my father said it himself!". Rickon added fiercely. "He may not be my father's son but he will always be my brother. Jon is just as Stark as the rest of us".

GreatJon knew he couldn't argue directly with the warden of the North, particularly in the presence of his kinsmen. He would have no choice to accept this, however questionable it originally seemed. Suddenly, he had a realisation however. "Wait Jon? Jon Snow?" He questioned in amazement. Jon began to worry that he had somehow done something else to sully his mood. The mention of his name seemed to have sparked a different reaction to one of disgust though it seemed. "You're the one who's taking on the Walker's first hand!" Lord Umber noted.

"What's going on? What's causing this revolt?" Jon asked, bringing the problem at hand back to the forefront. GreatJon snapped back to attention as he looked out over the chaos unfolding. "Men loyal to the Boltons" Lord Umber replied, his tone deeply laced with disgust. "They're trying to divide the soldiers with their poison speech about the Throne. That isn't sitting well with most who suffered their tyrannical reign, though it's bringing a voice for violence to the lips of some". Jon knew of their frustration. Sansa only confirmed it moments later it with her words. "They're the ones who destroyed Winterfell" she told them. "Indeed they are my lady. Such crimes shouldn't go unpunished in the North" GreatJon noted, putting the suggestion upon Rickon's young shoulders.

At first, the young Stark was indecisive. This was a pressing and dangerous request that could see blood spilled. Seeing the strained looks in his sister's eyes however, his love for his family and their long gone home drove him to his answer. "They should receive justice for the crimes they've committed to the North" he ordered sternly.

As much as Jon wanted to agree with him, he knew that things wouldn't be that simple. They couldn't afford to start losing men so carelessly over a civil dispute while the Walkers were still out there somewhere. They need every living soldier they could spare. "No, we can't start infighting Rickon. Not now" he warned the young Stark. "You'd defy the King in the North?" Lord Umber asked with scepticism. "He's my little brother. And with all due respect, we're not in the North Lord Umber" Jon reminded him. 'We're residing under the rule of different men right now. Who's to say they won't intervene and throw us in cells"?

The Northern Lord knew he couldn't argue with that fact. As much as he wanted to curse the crown and its miniscule influence over the way he lived, he knew they were indeed out of their depth here. They'd have to find another solution that spared the majority the sword or the gallows. Of course, not everyone was willing to accept that. "You can't be serious Jon? Look at what they've done to our family!" Arya shouted, venting her frustration as she look ready to start slaying her enemies left, right and centre. Sansa in the meantime had been stunned to silence. "I know what they've done Arya. They won't be getting off that easily believe me. I know it seems wrong but we've got to handle this properly" Jon pleaded with her, bringing himself down to her level as he spoke. "He's right" Rickon added. "It's how father would have handled it. With honour".

Arya knew she couldn't argue with them. She still seethed with rage of course, holding the hilt of Needle firmly as she stood ready to skewer any man who talked out of turn. " Take us to them" Jon ordered the Umbers. They obliged quickly, the group rushing onwards as they took the children of Winterfell to the front of the congregation now holding the Bolton's in place. Moving past the front of the crowd, the group saw the Bolton soldiers gathered in the centre of the surrounding circle. Whilst they too looked worn down in their tattered grey armour, they held their swords, spears and shields strong, forming a phalanx in order to defend themselves from any impending attack.

"Well look lads. It's the littlest orphan Lord in the Seven Kingdoms!" One of the frontrunners mocked as he saw Rickon approach with other Northern lords. Although he wanted to curse back, he kept his tongue between his teeth momentarily, getting a good hard look over his enemy. He had come not to be intimidated by cowards like these as time had gone on. Jon was impressed to see him react with a mature such resolve. "What is the meaning of this?" Rickon questioned them. "Get lost kid, we're following the command of the true Warden of the North" another of the soldiers barked. "And who might that be?" Jon asked, trying to pry an answer from them.

"Now _that_ would be me".

The arrogant voice echoed above the surrounding wall of noise as many sought to get a view of this mysterious character. Someone recognised him instantly however, the cold and callous tone etched into her deepest fears. Sansa began to shake as she realised exactly who was about to emerge. The mystery man emerged from the contingent, his brown, curly hair messy and his clothes tattered but his smug grin as wide as the length of the Seven Kingdoms. "Ramsey, of House Bolton" he declared as he strode out before them.

Before anybody could utter another word, a piercing scream echoed out through the cold winter air. All eyes fell upon Sansa as she trembled in terror of the monster who had destroyed her home and made her life a living hell. Nobody needed any second guesses to his identity after that. The Northerners clutched their swords at the ready as Ramsey looked on with amusement. "Ah! My sweet wife. What a lovely surprise seeing you here! I was wondering where you'd gotten too these past few months" Ramsey mocked as he tried to terrorise her even further. "And this must be your family. We never did meet at the wedding did we?"

"Don't you dare speak to my sister Bolton!" Arya spat as she held her sword aloft, ready to pierce a hole right through Ramsey's throat. It only seemed to bring humour to the Bolton ranks however. "Fighting spirit! I like that" Ramsey laughed with his soldiers as the little girl challenged him. "Well I have been looking for a good challenge for quite while now. Though saying that, you Starks weren't much of a challenge previously".

"You're going to pay for what you did to my family and Winterfell" Rickon told him, seething with anger. Again, Ramsey didn't take the threat very seriously. "And this must be the littlest Stark I've seen yet!" Ramsey joked again, their warnings meaning little to his deranged mind. "I guess you think your the fabled 'King in the North' don't you?" He put to Rickon. "He's is more of a right to rule than you'll ever have Bolton" GreatJon told him, speaking the disgust he felt towards such a wretched traitor to the North. "Oh is that so?" Ramsey began, fiddling with his sword as he continued his defiance.

"I think you easily forget that I've served under the most recent Warden of the North; my father. Being the only natural heir to the Bolton name, that responsibility passes to me. So technically, I've served a longer term than a pint sized Stark like this one". The group was silent, still seething with anger at the man's twisted words. "See, logic! You have no answer to it" Ramsey noted, smiling devilishly as he clapped his hands together in entertainment.

"Now, as the _true_ Warden of the North, I feel it's my civic duty for me and my men to be present in there and not out here with this rubble" he noted, pointing between the city walls and the camp around him as he made his point. "Besides, I'm pretty certain that this new Queen would like to receive me". Jon tried to stifle laughing as loud as he wanted, scoffing at such absurdity. Ramsey noticed this of course. "Oh did I miss the punchline? Please explain?" He put to Jon. "You really think the Queen would deal with the likes of you? You're a rat Bolton" Jon answered, expressing his distaste of the man, much to the approval of the Northerners around him.

"Ouch. _Personal_ " Ramsey replied, mocking a literal wound in place of the figurative one as he thrived on playing the villain. "And before we've even been properly introduced. Still, no matter. I've heard all about you Jon Snow". Jon was slightly taken back by how the reprobate knew of him before remembering his reputation was preceding him of late. "Yes, the fabled bastard of Winterfell come protector of the realm" Ramsey continued as he slowly edged towards Jon. "Though, there seems to be something different about you compared to the rest of these grim looking Northerners. Something I can't quite put my finger on".

Jon felt uneasy around Ramsey as he began to approach, his evil glare invoking fear in the face of such menace. "Perhaps you've never stood beneath a man with honour before" Jon replied, trying to slow Ramsey's advance as he held Longclaw close. Ramsey stopped his slow pace, simply smiling madly again as he did. "Really? Honour is the best you have? Well, at least you have humour. That's more than I can say for the rest of this truculent lot" he joked.

"You know, we're not that different, you and I" Ramsey continued as he addressed the former ranger. "In another life, I could have ended up taking the black like you and maybe you'd be the warden demanding an audience. I was never respected in my family's eyes either. Though unlike you, I stuck things out and earned respect from my father to become truly legitimised. I don't think your father would have done the same for you before he so tragically...lost his head". Jon wouldn't stand for the seedy little man's insults, though he tried to keep emotions in check. He couldn't let his enemy see his real intentions so soon.

"Are you sure that legitimacy even still stands?" Jon mocked back, trying to play Ramsey at the only game he understood. It did seem to catch his attention as he stopped in his tracks. "The rule of the King that made it so is over. I doubt the new Queen would even give you the time of day, let alone hold you amongst the realms elite". This drew another stir of approval from the Northern lords around him, much to Ramsey's antipathy. After a moment of silence, nodding his head in mock acknowledgment, he stirred again.

"Well, facts or no facts, here we stand. Two mortal men, destined to meet and decide the course of each other's future. So what say you now Jon Snow? Will you treat us like the Walkers and strike us down with your fabled longsword? Will you risk losing four hundred good fighting men for personal vengeance?" He taunted, trying to draw Jons bluff. As much as Jon knew that was what many of the Northerners around him wanted, he knew it would be just what Ramsey wanted to hear. He wouldn't let him get his way anymore.

"We have eight hundred Unsullied guarding the city. There are nearly two thousand unwavering Northmen here and another two thousand battle hardened Baratheon's on the other side of the city. Beyond them are three near fully grown Dragons. I think we can spare four hundred men". For the first time in the afternoon, Ramsey's smiled disappeared. He was normally the one used to making people feel like they were worth nothing with his mental manipulation. Now somebody else was making him look like the fool.

"Besides, it's not my decision. You've committed crimes against the people of the North. It is only right that the Warden of the North decrees your fate". All eyes turned to Rickon who still inevitably stood firm with his eyes upon the Bolton usurpers. At first, he was uncertain under the strain of pressure. Looking to Jon quickly, a nod from the older Stark gave him confidence as he realised it was only him that could make the choice. Turning to the Bolton men still holding firm in their defensive stance, he addressed them first.

"In this war between life and death, we can't afford to lose any more men. You are soldiers who fight for life just like the rest of us, yet your allegiance to this criminal blinds you from the bigger picture. I promise your lives will be spared so long as you throw down your weapons and abandon this fruitless revolt and its twisted leader".

Ramsey expected full well to hear his men roaring with laughter, much like he felt expressing himself. To his surprise however, he could only hear very muffled voices. Turning to face his men, he found them speaking in whispers, indecisive and unsure. "Are...you actually considering listening to this little fucking boy?!" Ramsey shouted in anger. "We are the rulers of these cretins! Do you really fear these lowly farmers and crones"!?  
"I'm afraid there's no 'we' in this for you Ramsey" Rickon interrupted. "Your crimes have gone unpunished long enough. You _will_ be tried for your crimes. You're going nowhere". His words were greeted by a rapturous cheer from Northerners around them. Instead of working to the desired effect and unnerving Ramsey however, the outcome only seemed to make him more deranged.

"You want to trial me?" He laughed, pointing the sharp tip of his sword threateningly towards Rickon. "I think you remain under the illusion that I'm actually going to come quietly". Several Northern soldiers readied their weapons at this remark, the stand off becoming ever tenser as verbal blows were traded. It all seemed to be working perfectly to Ramsey as he turned to face the Stark lord again. "Who's to say I don't want a trial by combat? Are you going to show me what you're made of little Lord? Or am I going to have to cut you open and find out for myself?"

This broke through Rickon's otherwise steady resolve. This had just been a bluffing game until now. Here he was being threatened with violence and a sharpened blade, the madman wielding it even sharper. Before he could respond however, Jon intervened. "He won't be fighting you" he stated. "You can have a champion represent you in such a trial. I'm volunteering on his behalf". More whispers began circulating amongst the crowd as Ramsey simply smirked at this twist in events. "So this it how pans out. Two bastards forced to bludgeon the other to death for the entertainment of highborns. Amusing indeed"!

Jon was in no mood for games now however. His singular focus was to defend the honour of both his family and the North against this twisted individual. He held Longclaw at the ready as the two adversaries began to slowly circle one another, a clear arena emerging in the dirt around them as men surrounding them gave them space. Whilst Jon was still fully focused, Ramsey simply kept his devilish grin about him as he stared down his opponent. "Well I do hope your all your cracked up to be. I've been craving some decent competition for a while now" he confessed to Jon, extending his sword out to his right hand side as he took up an attacking stance. "I'll try and make your last fight worth it" Jon smirked.

With that, Ramsey lunged for the half-Targaryen prince, his sword flailing wildly as he aimed straight for Jon's midriff. He found himself countered against the large Valyrian steel sword however, the clanging of metal on metal signalling the fight begun. Jon lifted the countering weight off of him and attempted to parry as he took the offensive against Ramsey. The Bolton was quick to counter him however, trading several rapid swipes in aggression that very nearly left their imprint on Jon. One came so close that it shaved the furs on his coat.

"I want to help him!" Arya exclaimed, grasping her sword as the Stark children stood with the two Umber lords. "You can't. We must honour the rules of the trial" Bryen told her, slowing her down. She couldn't understand such sacrificial nature but adhered to the rules as she looked at Rickon. He was just as nervous as her, every near miss Ramsey swung at his brother making him cross his fingers tighter in the hopes that luck from the Gods would keep Jon safe.

The blows continued for around ten full minutes, neither letting up as the two warriors fought for their lives and their honour. Ramsey swung around to bring a heavy blow straight at Jon, once again finding his sword firmly held in defence. Ramsey began pushing his weight down, testing his opponent's resolve. He found it beginning to take effect as Jon was forced to stumble backwards. He was beginning to tire from the excessive combat, ducking and weaving from heavy blows being made all the more difficult as his right leg was still not yet fully healed after the last run in with the Walkers.

"What's the matter Snow? Getting tired already?" Ramsey mocked, brushing the falling snow from his face as he looked over the heavily breathing Jon. He too was succumbing to exhaustion, though his insane determination seemed to will him on. Jon in the meantime remained crouched down, gathering breath as quickly as he could whilst clutching his wound. The pain and pressure blistered through his nerves as he looked up at his opponent. Turning his head briefly, Jon could see the worried looks on the faces of the Stark children, their hope for justice and indeed his own well being just about clinging on in this fight.

Ramsey gave him his moment of sentiment in order to make it seem crueller when he twisted the knife in deepest. "Here, let me put you out of your misery!" He exclaimed loudly as he brought his sword down with a heavy swing. Reacting as quickly as he could, Jon watched the trajectory of the blade as it swung towards him. Just about catching its path, he managed to avoid it as Ramsey continued swinging with all his weight. With Longclaw still drawn, Jon swiped quickly into Ramsey's fighting wrist with everything he had, severing the muscle and bone as he sliced clean through. Ramsey's traveling sword and indeed his hand fell to the floor with a thump as he in turn fell to his knees, letting out a bloodcurdling cry of pain.

The Bolton bastard held on tightly to the severed stump where his right hand used to reside, watching the blood pour from the new orifice and stain the white snow below as he clenched his muscles tightly in writhing agony. Caught up in his exceptional pain, he just about noticed Jon bringing the cold blade his sword to rest on the back of his neck. "Any last words?" Jon asked, wanting to hear the Bolton beg after such an intense battle. There was no whimper of mercy from the criminal however. Instead, he simply chuckled as he delivered his last words.

"Tell your sister to remember my face the next time somebody fucks that tight little cunt of hers"!  
With that final crude insult shouted, Jon lifted Longclaw into the air, all eyes fixed on the blade as it began to descend in a flash. In the blink of an eye, it cut clean through the back of Ramsey's neck, blood splattering over both the snow on the ground and the Snow wielding the sword. The Boltons pilotless body simply fell to the floor as its last hint of life was extinguished. Jon simply tried to catch his breath afterwards, remaining still for a moment as he overcame the effects of such a clash. As he finally began to rise again, the sight of Ramsey's dead body not a particularly appealing one, he glanced around at the crowd. His eyes first caught the Bolton soldiers, stunned into silence at the defeat of their leader. Many began to throw down their weapons in surrender as the fear of a similar fate resonated throughout them.

One thing Jon did expect was cheers from the proud Northerners around him as justice was delivered. What he found was the polar opposite however. Only the sound of the wind continued to howl on the cold winters afternoon. As he caught a glance of the Stark children, he noticed something very peculiar. They all had their backs turned to him, looking away at something else clearly more attention worthy. Many other Northerners began to do the same, their glances raised upwards looking towards the city's ramparts. As Jon joined them, he could see the reason for their stunned silence.

Watching on over the city gates was Daenerys and Tyrion, her procession bearing witness first hand to Jon's execution of the Bolton traitor. Jon held a lump in his throat as he fretted on what possible repercussions this could have. He knew he'd have some explaining to do once he arrived back in the palace later.

Upon the ramparts, Daenerys watched on dismayed at the sight before her. She had noted Jon's absence and made a point to find out where he and Rickon had gotten too. What she had found was Jon executing another of his kin, his blade striking down mercilessly without any just reason she had gathered. The intentions of his victim had been unclear but his fate had been sealed in blood rather than fair trial. Tyrion was slightly more thoughtful on how this had come to be, his own past experiences giving him more knowledge than the young Targaryen Queen he mentored. Still, to take a man's life on questionable terms and little authority was a serious charge.

The words he picked to advise Daenerys were just about to leave his lips when somebody cut them off. Turning to look down the wall, they saw Missandei and Greyworm moving swiftly towards them. The former called after her Queen, her tone of voice giving away a seemingly troubled mind. Tyrion could only guess at what was unnerving the young woman as Daenerys literally asked her the question. Her intentions became all too clear in no time however. She fumbled her hand around the inside of her jacket before she pulled out something all too familiar to Tyrion. It was a piece of parchment from his desk. Given its unsealed state, it was one he had been writing very recently. His heart sank and fear gripped him over the impending action. Missandei gave the letter to Daenerys who in turn glanced over its contents.

It didn't take her long to piece things together as she read over what he had been writing to Jaime. Slowly, her hands descended from their holding position and propped to her sides. She remained motionless for a moment before she slowly turned to face Tyrion. He could see the betrayed look on her face. Somehow it had beaten the one he had witnessed just moments ago after Jon's 'criminal' act. The two simply stared each other in the eyes briefly as neither could conjure a word. Eventually, it was Daenerys who spoke first.

"How long have you kept this from me?"

"Daenerys, I can explain" Tyrion answered, trying desperately to plead with her. She wasn't listening however. Her mind had become overwhelmed with what was transpiring. Their best laid plans were beginning to fall apart and it was those she deemed closest most recently betraying her. Her eyes wandered away from her step brother and towards her guards who waited patiently on her orders. Taking one final look down, she could see Tyrion's resolve breaking as guilt began to etch through onto the surface of his person. "Please" he whispered faintly. Daenerys had already made her choice however as her eyes met those of the guards once more.

"Take him".

The Unsullied didn't hesitate as they grabbed Tyrion in order to restrain him. He barely put up a struggle, resigning to his fate as Daenerys gave her next command to Greyworm.

"Bring Jon and the Starks to the Red Keep. We are going to resolve this issue and resolve it now".


End file.
